


Nightshade

by Castielgavemewings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, I fell down an iwaoi hole and can't get back up, Iwaizumi is TIRED, M/M, Mafia AU, Oikawa is a rich bastard, Oikawa with knives, Slow Burn, going to be long as fuck, kidnapping gone wrong, seijoh with tattoos, what more could you want
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:46:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 39,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28910304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castielgavemewings/pseuds/Castielgavemewings
Summary: Iwaizumi had noticed the car following him nearly three blocks back, but he figured that it was some poor lost bastard. That is, until it pulled up next to him, slowing to a stop. Iwaizumi was fully prepared to tell whoever it was to fuck right off when two men hopped out, pressed something cold and metal and holy shit that is a gun to his torso.Well. Iwaizumi thought. Shit.ORIn a botched mafia kidnapping, Iwaizumi finds himself in the hands of Aoba Johsai's Kingpin, Nightshade, and who would have thought a gang leader could be so charming, annoying, stupid, and stupid-hot at the same time?
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 70
Kudos: 136





	1. Chapter One: Adventures in Kidnapping

**Author's Note:**

> *looks around* *starts third WIP* Hope you like this one guys, because I sure do

Iwaizumi believed that he really should come to terms with the fact that any god that had ever had the misfortune of existing was out to get him. If that wasn’t the case then there would have been no reason that Iwaizumi would have chosen to apply to medical school in the first place, and no reason that he would have ended up in the most hellish residency of his life. To put it simply, Ushijima Wakatoshi had a special place waiting for him in hell.

For the fourth night that week, he found himself walking home at three am, dead on his feet, hoping to god that someone would kidnap and murder him so that he would not have to walk back into Seijoh General Hospital three hours from now. Given how Iwaizumi feels about gods, you would think he wouldn’t have done such a thing. However, Iwaizumi knew that he seldom received what he wished for anyway, so a little daydreaming couldn’t hurt, right? Fucking wrong.

Iwaizumi had noticed the car following him nearly three blocks back, but he figured that it was some poor lost bastard. That is, until it pulled up next to him, slowing to a stop. Iwaizumi was fully prepared to tell whoever it was to fuck right off when two men hopped out, pressed something cold and metal and _holy shit that is a gun_ to his torso.

 _Well._ Iwaizumi thought. _Shit._

It was times like these that Iwaizumi questioned his ability to become a doctor, one for kids no less, seeing as his gut reaction was to unleash his inner sailor and rattle off the most impressive string of curses heard in the last century.

“What in the undead motherfucking hell do you two bags of moldy dicks think you are doing?” Iwaizumi yelled, moving his hand to his pocket, assuming they were about to ask for his wallet. As far as Iwaizumi was concerned, he’d be better for it. The way he saw it, if all it took was three bucks, an expired condom, and an old Pokémon card to buy him two hours of sleep that night, then god damn it he would give it up. But, then again, technically speaking, wasn’t death kind of like _permanent_ sleep? Iwaizumi didn’t have time to ponder whether or not death was actually the more favorable option for long, because the other man was quick to pin his arms to his back, and stick a balled up something in his mouth. Iwaizumi didn’t want to think about how some kid with fruity-ass pink hair ended up disarming him within three seconds, but that was neither here nor there.

What was here _and_ there, however, was the big black kidnapper van that he was slowly being marched into. Iwaizumi wondered if kidnappers put blankets in the back for tired hostages. However, as the taller guy opened the door to reveal exactly zero blankets across the black leather seats, Iwaizumi resigned himself to the fact that if he was to be sold on the black market, he could probably sleep on the way to wherever it was he was sent. He bit back a shudder at the idea of being sent to North Korea though. Because no matter _how much_ he was worth, he was _not_ going to spend the rest of his life warming the bed of Kim Jong- _fucking_ -Un. It was then that one of the men decided to speak, albeit not to Iwaizumi.

“Hey, Matsu—uh, Foxglove?” Fruity-ass-pink-hair said to the man beside him. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes at the name. What kind of kidnappers needed dumbass nicknames, anyway? Iwaizumi thought, straining to listen to the conversation, though it was difficult to hear over the blood rushing through his ears. Call him what you want, but Iwaizumi felt as though he had a certain right to be freaking the fuck out.

“What is it, dumbass?” the other—Foxglove—replied.

“Hey! That’s not fair! I used your codename, so you have to use mine!” Fruity-ass-pink-hair whined. _Of course._ Iwaizumi thought. _Of course, I would get kidnapped, and of course it would be by idiots._ Iwaizumi tried to speak around the gag, but the only thing that came out was a thin line of drool now dragging its way down his chin.

“Fine, what is it, _giant hogweed_?” Foxglove’s lips curled into a smirk as he said it, and Iwaizumi would have laughed had he not feared suffocation instead.

“That. Is. Not. My. Codename.” Pink hair bit out through gritted teeth, moving to put a hand over Foxglove’s eyes. Iwaizumi wanted to scream. Wanted to do anything but watch as the driver-of-his-kidnapper-van’s eyes were covered. Fortunately, Foxglove seemed accustomed to this and merely _kept driving_.

“What do you want, Hemlock?” Foxglove sighed, smiling as Hemlock uncovered his eyes. Hemlock’s glance became furtive, and Iwaizumi didn’t miss the way his teeth tore into his lower lip. Whatever Hemlock was about to say, Iwaizumi didn’t imagine it was good.

“Are you, um, _sure_ that this is who Nightshade wanted?” Hemlock asked, his voice dropping to a whisper. _Nightshade?_ Iwaizumi wondered. The name rang a bell, but he was almost certain he’d never known a Nightshade. It wasn’t exactly a Jim or a Jessica, if he had ever met a Nightshade, he was sure he’d remember.

“Who else could it have been? Tall, mean looking, walking alone at night on fifth street?” Foxglove said, lighting a cigarette. Iwaizumi watched as the man flicked the cap off his lighter, rolling up his sleeve before—wait one _goddamn fucking minute_. If Iwaizumi’s mouth hadn’t been forced open, he would have dropped his jaw. Iwaizumi could only gaze at Foxglove’s forearm, at the dagger wrapped in ivy, horrified as the stars aligned in his head. Who was known for kidnappings, nicknames inspired by poisonous plants, and those dagger tattoos? Whose kingpin went by the name Nightshade? The Aoba Johsai mafia. That was who. If Iwaizumi had believed that he was fucked before, he was triple fucked now. Iwaizumi tugged at the zip ties around his wrists. He’d been to a self-defense class about this before. It wasn’t his fault for zoning out because why in god’s name would he actually get _kidnapped?_ So instead, he slipped a socked foot out of his shoe, and tried the door.

This, however, caught the attention of the two idiots in the front seat. Iwaizumi didn’t have time to blink before the business end of a bat caught him right between the eyes.

When Iwaizumi came to, his head hurt like a bitch and Foxglove’s arm was wrapped around him, dragging him toward the door. His mouth was drier than hell, and tasted like thawed-out tetanus. He wondered if they had stuffed a dirty sock in his mouth. Iwaizumi gagged at the thought. Foxglove slowed his step, realizing that he was awake.

“Feeling better, sweetheart?” He droned, hauling Iwaizumi up onto his feet so he could walk properly. Iwaizumi just shot him a withering glare before rolling out his neck. Although he couldn’t say he loved the experience of having his head bashed in, he did feel slightly more awake. As they approached the largest and most elaborate gate Iwaizumi had ever seen, he felt his heart start to pound. See, Iwaizumi was certain they had the wrong guy, but, based on the description, maybe he was who they were looking for. Foxglove pressed a button for the intercom.

“State your business.” The box spoke.

“Foxglove and Hemlock reporting with the target.” Foxglove spoke. Iwaizumi held his breath as the gate swung open, expecting a firing squad or something, but instead was greeted by perhaps the most breath-taking exhibition of modern-day architecture. The house, no that wasn’t quite the right word, the _mansion_ seemed to spread for miles. The dark brick was complemented by the thick drapes of ivy that crawled across the walls. Iwaizumi could see the balconies from where he stood, and the soft golden glow that leaked from the windows. Foxglove led him past hedges and gardens, winding their way past a fountain and through a courtyard before arriving at the door.

“Are you sure—” Hemlock started.

“Shut the fuck up.” Foxglove replied, shoving Hemlock with the arm that wasn’t shoved under Iwaizumi’s shoulders. A short man with a bad dye job greeted them.

“Hanamaki, Matsukawa.” He said plainly, inclining his head accordingly. Iwaizumi thought his head would explode keeping track of just the different names alone. The two boys visibly flinched at the use of their names. Iwaizumi felt a hand on his back, pushing him into a bow with his two keepers.

“Yew.” They mumbled in unison. Yew just rolled his eyes at the pair before gesturing into the house. “Nightshade is ready for you now. He’s not in a particularly good mood today.” Yew said plainly. Hanamaki and Matsukawa went stock still, Iwaizumi swore he could feel Hanamaki shaking against his side. Matsukawa spoke up first, however.

“What happened? He was fine when we left.” He asked, scratching at his chin. It was then that Iwaizumi took note of the tiny white scars that dotted Matsukawa’s knuckles. He grimaced at how hard Matsukawa would have had to punch to break the skin so severely.

“You know how he is,” Yew started, interrupted by a yawn, “Plus, Terushima walked out on him today.” The three exchanged a look before Hanamaki met Iwaizumi’s gaze.

“Good fucking luck, kid.” Hanamaki said. And with that, they led him into the great room.

The first thing Iwaizumi noticed was the chandelier. He didn’t think he’d ever seen anything so ornate in his life, though it fit perfectly with what he’d seen so far. Crystals hung on gold wire from the lights, casting the image of tiny stars around the room. Twines of gilded ivy wrapped themselves around every surface, even going so far as to spread across the ceiling once they had sufficiently covered the chandelier.

The next thing he noticed was the man sitting on an evergreen settee ten feet in front of him. He was dressed in a suit that could have put Iwaizumi through medical school, and a tie of deep green that matched the couch he sat on. His skin was smooth, making way for the deep umber eyes that had now fallen upon him. They almost matched the exact shade of his hair, kept in neat waves, just barely brushing his forehead. Iwaizumi wanted to kick himself in the balls. Either he was down worse than he thought (the condom was expired for a reason, after all), or Stockholm Syndrome was _very real_ and _very much happening to him._ Iwaizumi was pretty sure it was the first. Again, Iwaizumi felt the hand on his back prompting him into a bow. When he rose, the man had also risen, crossing the gap until he was just inches in front of Iwaizumi.

“Well, well, who have you brought me this time?” He asked, gaze raking across Iwaizumi’s personal escort.

“The man you requested, Nightshade.” Matsukawa said, Hanamaki just nodded next to him. Nightshade moved to place a single finger under Iwaizumi’s chin. Iwaizumi’s pulse was thundering now. As beautiful as the place was, he wasn’t entirely sure he’d like to meet his maker now. He thought back to his little apartment, the Godzilla movie he’d planned to watch that night, and the leftovers in his fridge that absolutely could not wait another day, and he felt his heart crack a little. He didn’t feel like he had a lot, but what he had was so undeniably _his_ , he wasn’t sure if he could part with it. He wondered what time it was, if Ushijima had been expecting him for long. Iwaizumi was dragged from his thoughts by Nightshade’s hand wrapped around his chin.

“Take this gag out, immediately.” Nightshade snapped at Hanamaki, who spared no time in reaching for the gag, subsequently pushing it farther down Iwaizumi’s throat, leaving him a coughing mess when Hanamaki finally succeeded in pulling it out.

“What—do you—want” Iwaizumi said between bouts of hacking his lung out. Nightshade’s hand moved to cradle Iwaizumi’s cheek. He considered biting it off. Nightshade just let out a little hum.

“So impatient, aren’t we?” He said, pressing his other hand to Iwaizumi’s cheek. “And so cute, too. So sorry about the little kidnapping incident. Especially because,” Nightshade paused, moving his gaze to Hanamaki and Matsukawa, “You’re not the right guy.” Iwaizumi could have sworn he saw Hanamaki’s life flash before his eyes. Yet again, Matsukawa spoke first.

“What do you mean? Is he not tall, mean-looking, and was he not walking alone on fifth street late at night?” Matsukawa asked. Nightshade just bit out a little laugh.

“Does this guy look _tall_ to you?” Nightshade smiled, pinching Iwaizumi’s cheeks.

“Hey! What they hell?” Iwaizumi snapped back, wishing his wrists weren’t still bound.

“Just kidding, so sensitive.” Nightshade teased, running a finger along the bridge of Iwaizumi’s nose. “What is your name?” He asked, tilting his head. It would have been adorable if they had met in a coffee shop. But, unfortunately for Iwaizumi, a coffee shop and a botched kidnapping had very little in common.

“Why should I tell you? Aren’t you just gonna call me Doodle Bug or some shit?” He seethed, gesturing at Hanamaki and Matsukawa for emphasis.

“Don’t you worry, _Doodle Bug_ , names are only given to initiated members,” Nightshade paused, pulling out a skinny little knife to twirl between his fingers, “So, let me ask you again. What’s your name?” Iwaizumi’s heart was back to stuttering as the knowledge of who exactly was in front of him took full effect.

“Iwaizumi.” He gritted out, eyebrows settling low over his eyelids. Nightshade looked pleased.

“What,” Nightshade smiled, “No first name?”

“Nothing _you_ could call me by.” Iwaizumi shot back. This only seemed to improve Nightshade’s mood.

“Alright then, Iwa-chan. Is there anything I can do for you before we make you a little more _comfortable_?” Nightshade asked, slowing his blade twirling to a stop. Iwaizumi did not like the sound of that.

“Are there any options that include not killing me?” Iwaizumi asked, pulling at the zip ties once more.

“I’m afraid not, Iwa-chan.” Nightshade said with a mock pout, placing the blade right over Iwaizumi’s pulse. Iwaizumi thought he should be more afraid, more upset, more confused, more _anything_. But all he felt was an overwhelming calm as Nightshade pressed harder. “Any last words?” Nightshade asked. Iwaizumi noted the way that Hanamaki and Matsukawa had gone white. He wondered if they were next. You know, having screwed up the kidnapping and all.

“Tell Ushijima I’ll see him in hell.” Iwaizumi said, closing his eyes, waiting. Except he kept waiting, and he definitely was not dead. Iwaizumi opened his eyes to see Nightshade staring at him, looking like he’d seen a ghost or some shit.

“You know…Ushijima Wakatoshi?” Nightshade asked. Iwaizumi just nodded, confused. That seemed to shut the little brunette thing up. That is, until he turned back to Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

“Well, lucky for you bastards, you did manage to kidnap someone of _some_ use. Bring him to the East Wing. We’ll talk this over in Eden.” Iwaizumi was shocked. He’d have to buy Ushijima a #1 Boss mug or something when he got back to work.

The walk to the East Wing was short, and Iwaizumi whatever semblance of lucidity he had found earlier had abandoned him. He wished he could say he was surprised to find out that the East Wing was clearly where they kept prisoners. But all that mattered was the fact that there was a motherfucking bed.

Iwaizumi was asleep before he heard the lock click behind him.


	2. Chapter Two: Checkmate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi sucks at chess and has to pee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO GLAD you guys are liking this so far. To everyone who has read this, thank you so much, your kind words have meant everything to me, and I'm so excited to share this chapter!

Iwaizumi woke to the sound of someone shuffling around outside. He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep but if the sunset outside was anything to go by, he was sure it had been well over twelve hours. His shoulders killed, and he was sure the fact that he had slept with his hands tied behind his back likely didn’t help. He stretched out what he could before rising to his feet and taking inventory of the room.

He looked first to the bed he’d just spent the better half of eternity in, letting out a low whistle. He hadn’t slept on something _that_ shitty since his freshman year of college. The next was the window on the back wall. It looked out into a garden, which seemed to overflow with greenery. Iwaizumi guessed it made sense, considering the overwhelming theme of plants he’d seen so far. The garden was beautiful indeed, and Iwaizumi wondered what it would be like to walk through it, to trail his hands along the leaves and branches, stems and flowers, breathe in their sweet scent, and lie there for some time, maybe catch another twelve hours of sleep.

There was a single stool adjacent to the bed, and a curtain against the far wall. Iwaizumi brushed it aside to reveal a toilet, and was suddenly made very aware of the fact that he hadn’t pissed in god knows how long. Though he was not a fan of the idea of a thin sheet of fabric protecting him from a host of nosy gang members, he figured he should count his blessings. Unfortunately, there were not many to count as he realized that there was no chance in hell he was getting his pants off with his hands tied. The idea of taking a piss abandoned, he found himself sitting on the edge of the bed, hungrier than hell. He wondered if accidental prisoners got food, or if he was supposed to sit here starving until they decided what to do with him. The question was answered shortly thereafter when Iwaizumi heard the tell-tale turning of the deadbolt. Iwaizumi sprang to his feet, wanting to greet whoever it was head on. He was incredibly surprised to find Nightshade opening the door, potted plant in hand.

“Oh! You’re awake! I wondered if you were dead there for a while.” Nightshade’s voice bubbled into a laugh at the words, but Iwaizumi was more preoccupied with wondering if he would die from hunger or slowly filling up with piss first. Iwaizumi just shot him a glare. “Oh? No cutting remarks tonight, Iwa-chan? You were so talkative yesterday.” Nightshade’s face dropped into a little pout and Iwaizumi wanted to smack it off of him.

“I have nothing to say to you.” Iwaizumi said plainly, moving to look out the window.

“Do you like the garden?” Nightshade asked, positioning himself at Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi ignored the question, dutifully watching the koi fish float around the pond below. “I spent an eternity on it, you know. The least you could do is appreciate it.” The man continued, moving to place the plant on the windowsill. The plant was small, sickly looking, and dotted with dropping white flowers. Iwaizumi turned his gaze toward it, wishing he could run his index finger over the petals.

“Lily of the valley.” Nightshade spoke, moving his hand toward it, but never coming into contact with the delicate little thing, “Contains 38 cardiac glycosides, stops the heart if ingested.” He smiled as if he were reading a fairytale, and Iwaizumi couldn’t stop his eyes as they traveled over the curve of Nightshade’s lips. Idly, his mind entertained the question of why Nightshade didn’t go by Lily of the Valley. If anyone could be considered heart-stopping it was— _No, do not go there._ Iwaizumi shook his head to clear it, and Nightshade moved his gaze to study Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi thought he might drop dead if Nightshade held the eye-contact any longer. Clearing his throat, he began to speak.

“What’s going to happen to me?” Iwaizumi asked, hating the lack of strength in the words. Nightshade just tilted his head.

“Well,” Nightshade began, “You’re now considered something of a liability for us. We can’t exactly let you go, especially not now that we know you’re tied to Ushijima, and even if you weren’t you’ve seen far too much. Which is the reason for our little _incident_ last night.” Nightshade hooked a finger around the neck of Iwaizumi’s shirt, and he wondered if Nightshade could feel the way his pulse raced. Iwaizumi swallowed hard.

“S-so why don’t you just kill me?” He asked, forcing himself to hold Nightshade’s gaze for just a moment longer. Nightshade threw his head back and laughed, losing his grip on Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi wondered why he, of all people, was being held hostage by a psychopath. Nightshade’s laughter ebbed away, and all that remained was that piercing gaze.

“Well,” Nightshade said, moving a hand to Iwaizumi’s cheek as he had done the night before, “Where is the fun in that?” With that, Nightshade turned to leave the room, and a breathless Iwaizumi with it.

“Wait!” Iwaizumi said, turning to face Nightshade’s back. The man turned, lips pursed, expectant. “Do you think someone could, take care of these?” He said, moving his arms in emphasis. Nightshade’s eyes widened a fraction at the gesture.

“Of course,” Nightshade said, voice softer than Iwaizumi had anticipated, “I’ll send in Hanamaki in just a moment.” Nightshade closed the door after him, and Iwaizumi gazed out at the garden, lingering on the promise of Hanamaki.

Sure enough, Hanamaki was striding into the room ten minutes later, scissors in one hand and a box in the other.

“Dinner.” He murmured, placing the box on the stool. Iwaizumi got to his feet, turning around to allow Hanamaki to snip the zip ties. He didn’t think he had ever known as much relief as the moment his hands sprang apart and he could roll his shoulders.

“Ah,” Iwaizumi sighed, “Thanks, man.” Iwaizumi didn’t know if thanks were in order, but, given the way his shoulders reveled in their newfound freedom, he was sure they were. Hanamaki looked at him like he had grown a third head and mumbled something else.

“What was that?” Iwaizumi asked, narrowing his eyes.

“I said I can’t believe you’re alive.” Iwaizumi felt his eyes go wide at that.

“I could say the same for you! Kidnapping the wrong person probably isn’t in your job description.” Iwaizumi rolled his eyes and scooped up the bento. Never had he been more excited to see meat and rice in his life. Hanamaki just sighed, taking a seat on the newly vacant stool.

“That’s just the thing,” Hanamaki started, “We should all be dead. You _really_ do not understand how much we should all be dead.” Hanamaki was tearing up his hands in his lap.

“Well,” Iwaizumi said around a mouthful of rice, “Why aren’t we?” Hanamaki looked at him in surprise.

“Fuck if I know. But maybe you have some idea, _Iwa-chan_.” Hanamaki spat. Iwaizumi cringed at the nickname. He hoped it wouldn’t stick.

“I guess Ushijima’s important enough to save our collective asses. That’s my best guess anyway.” Iwaizumi said, turning his attention back on his dinner. Hanamaki just nodded in silent confirmation before standing up and exiting the room.

Iwaizumi spent the remainder of his evening gazing into the garden. It wasn’t until his eyelids began to droop that he considered going back to the ratty-ass bed in the corner. He had all but given up on avoiding sleep, when a figure started winding its way through the hedges. He recognized that figure. The same figure that had held a knife to his throat and brought him a poisonous plant hours before. He watched as Nightshade inspected each and every row of plants, some he would reach out to touch, others he just observed. He took clippings from some, and, like the plant in the windowsill, he potted others, placing them just outside the row of their counterparts. He watched as Nightshade approached the row of lily of the valley, again reluctant to touch it, he stopped there, as if in thought, before his gaze found its way to Iwaizumi’s window. Nightshade startled as his eyes set upon Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi bit back a laugh. Nightshade had just substantially damaged his reputation as the leader of Japan’s most notorious gang. Iwaizumi watched as Nightshade raised his hand and gave Iwaizumi the tiniest of waves. This time Iwaizumi _did_ laugh, a little chuckle he wondered if Nightshade could see. Slowly, Iwaizumi raised his own hand, and offered the same little greeting. Satisfied with that, Nightshade turned back to examining his plants, and Iwaizumi found himself in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell was going on.

The next morning, Iwaizumi woke to a single note taped to the lily of the valley’s pot. He wondered how someone could have possibly made it in without waking him, but Iwaizumi knew he was not exactly a light sleeper. He’d slept through not one but _two_ fire alarms during his second year of college, so perhaps it was not that much of a mystery after all. He made his way to the window, carefully taking the note from the pot and unfolding it. A single message was written in looping cursive.

_Two-thirty_

_-Nightshade_

Iwaizumi was feeling less like a prisoner and more like entertainment, but he didn’t mind so much. He didn’t know why Nightshade bothered with him considering he probably had important gang leader duties to attend to, but he certainly didn’t mind the idea of not being so lonely. See, Iwaizumi had grown up in a wealthy family, but a loveless one. There were no family dinners outside of holiday obligation, no weekends spent in each other’s company, and when he had moved out to college, his family had insisted he room alone, and after he’d graduated, he’d completed medical school and his residency in solitude. Iwaizumi didn’t particularly care _why_ Nightshade wanted to see him, just the fact that he wanted to at all.

Iwaizumi spent his morning staring at various objects around the room and admiring the lily of the valley. He knew it was a sick little thing, and that was likely why Nightshade had potted it in the first place, but it was nice to feel like he had something else sharing the tiny room with him. Iwaizumi made his way over to the sink, which was really just a spigot attached to the wall, and cupped his hands under the stream. He was careful to monitor his steps as he made his way to the plant, dumping the water into the pot. Iwaizumi watched as the soil absorbed it slowly, wondering if that would help the poor thing out a bit. He dried his hands on his pants as the lock slid open. He didn’t need to look to know who it was. He kept his gaze fixed on the lily, hoping that if he focused on it long enough, he would see it perk up. Iwaizumi heard Nightshade’s footsteps come to a stop behind him, waiting. Iwaizumi turned from the plant, meeting Nightshade’s eyes once again.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” Iwaizumi asked, proud of the sarcasm that dripped from the words. Nightshade tilted his head, and Iwaizumi, once again, found it quite cute.

“I thought you might be getting lonely, and since my presence is god’s gift to man, I thought I would…how should I put it…share the wealth.” Nightshade smiled as he said it. Iwaizumi resisted the urge to smile right back.

“Is that so? Because I have it on good authority that you are something of a scourge to this earth, and should be treated accordingly.” Iwaizumi partly enjoyed the rush that accompanied the words, but partly wondered if insulting Nightshade would cause whatever luck he had generated to run out. Nightshade just clicked his tongue.

“So mean, Iwa-chan, are you any good at chess?” Nightshade asked, focusing his gaze on the garden below.

“Stop calling me that, and maybe I’ll answer the question.” Iwaizumi replied, running a finger around the rim of the pot.

“Say, Doodle Bug, are you any good at chess?” Iwaizumi whipped his gaze to Nightshade’s face, hating the content little smile that lay there. Nightshade turned his playful expression on Iwaizumi, “How’s that?” Iwaizumi could feel the tips of his ears getting redder by the second.

“The other one was fine.” Iwaizumi huffed. “But you should at least give me your name, so that I can call you something equally as shitty.” He finished, folding his arms across his chest.

“What do you mean, Iwa-chan? You already know my name.” Nightshade said plainly, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No,” Iwaizumi retorted, “I know your dumb little codename. What’s you real name?” Iwaizumi asked, wondering if he was pressing his luck once again. Nightshade just sighed.

“I am afraid that is above your paygrade.” He replied, leaning back and propping himself up on his elbows.

“What if I beat you at chess?” Iwaizumi asked, inclining his head. Nightshade’s lips split into a grin.

“You’ve got a deal.”

Now, Iwaizumi probably should have guessed that if Nightshade had agreed so quickly, he probably wouldn’t stand a chance. He should have known he wouldn’t stand a chance from the start because, while he knew how to _play_ chess, he still sucked everloving ass. After the fifth consecutive game where Iwaizumi lost in less than six moves, Nightshade turned to him.

“This isn’t fair. I’ve won so many times and yet I have won nothing.” He said, resetting the board.

“I don’t exactly have anything to give you.” Iwaizumi replied, switching his king and queen.

“Sure you do,” Nightshade spoke, “There’s plenty I want to know about you.” Iwaizumi hummed in response, checking his pieces against Nightshade’s.

“Go ahead. You’ve won five rounds, so I’ll tell you five things.” Nightshade perked up at that, seeming to lose himself in concentration.

“Okay, first question, do you like the garden?” Iwaizumi wanted to roll his eyes at the question and the little vain creature both.

“Yes, I like the garden.” Iwaizumi said, waiting for Nightshade to make the first move. He moved the same piece as rounds prior, and Iwaizumi copied it exactly.

“Second, do you like that lily of the valley?” Iwaizumi wondered why, of all the questions Nightshade could ask, he had chosen two inconsequential ones.

“Yes, I really like it, actually.” Nightshade smiled that same dazzling grin at that.

“Third, why do you want to know my name?” Iwaizumi balked at that. There really was no reason other than it seemed like something he should know.

“I already told you, I want to give you a stupid nickname.” Iwaizumi said. Nightshade rolled his eyes, moving his knight from its position, capturing Iwaizumi’s queen.

“Four, what’s your favorite food?” Nightshade asked. Iwaizumi didn’t even have to think about this one.

“Agedashi tofu!” He said a little too enthusiastically, setting a little smile on Nightshade’s face, as he moved his bishop to take Iwaizumi’s second rook.

“And, lastly,” Nightshade began, leveling his gaze with Iwaizumi, “Do you hate me?” Iwaizumi thought he was going to die on the spot. He planned a response, but, like always, his traitorous mouth always seemed to get the best of him.

“I don’t know you. So, in that sense, I don’t. I like your garden, I like the lily, and I don’t hate that you did that, but you did kidnap me, so I suppose I do.” Iwaizumi said, preparing to have his throat slashed. Instead, Nightshade’s teeth worried over his bottom lip, gaze dropping back to the chess game. He moved his queen to trap Iwaizumi’s king. Nightshade looked up; eyes softer than Iwaizumi would have thought possible.

“Checkmate.” Nightshade whispered before getting up and crossing the room. He left the chessboard, and Iwaizumi sat there for a long while wondering why Nightshade had sounded almost sad. Iwaizumi cleared his head of the thoughts and reset the chessboard.

Come hell or high water, by hook or by crook, Iwaizumi was going to find out Nightshade’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts, Comments, Drama?


	3. Chapter Three: Lily of the Valley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi still sucks at chess and should definitely be dead by now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I addicted to writing this??? I just love it so much I hope y'all do too

If Iwaizumi wasn’t questioning Nightshade’s motivation before, he certainly was now. With Hanamaki, came dinner, and when Iwaizumi opened the bento box, he thought he might pass away. Inside the box, lay the most beautiful Agedashi tofu Iwaizumi had ever seen. Iwaizumi thought he felt tears prick at his eyes as he began inhaling the food. Hanamaki turned to leave, but Iwaizumi shot out a hand and grabbed his sleeve. Hanamaki recoiled at the touch, but stopped in his tracks.

“Wait,” Iwaizumi said, swallowing his bite of tofu,“I have a question.” Iwaizumi watched as Hanamaki crossed his arms across his chest.

“Well, ask and Hanamaki the Omnipotent shall answer.” He said with a cocky-ass smirk that Iwaizumi would like to remove with his boot.

“Do you know Nightshade’s name?” Iwaizumi asked, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. Hanamaki’s face drained of color, and Iwaizumi grew even more apprehensive as Hanamaki’s voice dropped into a whisper.

“Who _the fuck_ wants to know?” Hanamaki said, venom curling around every word. Iwaizumi just stared at him.

“I do, and I really do not understand why it’s some top-secrety-secret.” Iwaizumi said, plucking another bite from his plate. Hanamaki stepped closer to Iwaizumi, narrowing his eyes.

“Listen, Iwaizumi. I don’t know anything about you. None of us do, except that in some way you are connected to Ushijima, and that saved my ass. I won’t tell Nightshade you asked because—”

“I already asked him, he wouldn’t tell me.” Iwaizumi interrupted. Hanamaki blinked once. Twice.

“Okay. That’s it. How are you not _fucking_ dead? Or maybe you are. Maybe I am too, and this is hell.” Hanamaki rambled, pacing the length of the room. Iwaizumi tracked him with his eyes. Hanamaki seemed to be rather obsessed with the notion that Nightshade should have killed the both of them several times over, but, if Iwaizumi was being honest, Nightshade hadn’t seemed all that…violent. Well, sparing the whole knife-at-his-throat thing two days ago, but hey, everyone has their moments. Hanamaki stopped his pacing to face Iwaizumi.

“ _No one_ knows Nightshade’s name. Not me, not Matsukawa, not Yew, I’m pretty sure _Lily of the Valley_ didn’t even know.” Hanamaki said.

“Wait. _What_ did you just say?” Iwaizumi asked, on his feet in an instant. Hanamaki replayed his words in his head, eyes nearly popping out of his sockets when he realized…something? Iwaizumi didn’t know what could have spurred such a reaction, but Hanamaki was probably halfway to the grave by the looks of it. Hanamaki just smacked his palm over his mouth, and stared straight at Iwaizumi.

“ _Please_ do not repeat anything I just said.” Hanamaki pleaded, eyes darting between Iwaizumi and the door. Iwaizumi took note of the way Hanamaki’s chest expanded and contracted at an alarming pace. He took a step toward the poor panic-stricken Hanamaki, guiding him to the bed.

“Dude, I’m not gonna say anything, but I need you to explain what the fuck you just said.” Iwaizumi said, sparing a glance at the plant on his windowsill. Hanamaki pressed his lips shut, white bleeding into pink where they crushed against each other. Iwaizumi just waited as Hanamaki took a series of deep breaths, looking at the door one last time before continuing.

“Okay, there’s a few things you should know. First, the way it works, is that you refer to your superiors by their codename, equals and everyone else by their given name. _Unless_ you’re…say…kidnapping someone.” Hanamaki cringed as he said that. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Second, since Nightshade doesn’t _have_ a superior, no one knows his name. It is strictly forbidden to ask a superior for their name under penalty of death. Hence why I _do not know_ why you are alive.” Hanamaki explained. Iwaizumi waited.

“Lily of the Valley…” Iwaizumi prompted, but Hanamaki just shook his head, and leaned closer to Iwaizumi.

“Listen, kid, if you want to make it to tomorrow, you’ll never speak that name again.” Hanamaki said. It did nothing to slake the curiosity that plagued Iwaizumi, but given the way Hanamaki was acting, he assumed that he should heed the words. Iwaizumi nodded in response as Hanamaki made his way to the door. Having finished his tofu, he turned back to the chessboard, playing himself until his brain felt like a puddle of half-formed strategy and sludge. Iwaizumi made his way to the window, gaze trained on the Lily of the Valley.

“Why are you here?” he whispered to it, half expecting a response, but, of course, received none. Instead of engaging in a one-sided conversation with a plant, he turned to the garden, unsurprised to see a familiar figure lurking there. Iwaizumi looked at the garden properly, watching as Nightshade made his rounds. It was then that he eyed the patch of Lily of the Valley, twice as large as any other patch in the garden. Iwaizumi rested his chin in his hand, watching as Nightshade kneeled before the little white flowers, reaching for them, but never touching them. Like clockwork, Nightshade turned his gaze to the window where Iwaizumi stood, but this time he didn’t startle, just gave Iwaizumi another tiny wave before heading inside. Iwaizumi took this as his cue to retire for the night, curling up with his shitty pillow and shittier blanket, and staring at the ceiling once more.

After that, Nightshade didn’t show up for a while. Iwaizumi became familiar with Hanamaki, his nervousness, and the rare times he’d crack a joke or let his pompous side show. Iwaizumi found himself uncomfortably comfortable with his situation. Though there were still days he longed for his Godzilla movies, the thing that bothered him most was the fact that no one appeared to be looking for him. What bothered him more was the notion that if _anyone_ were to report him as missing it would be Ushijima. He hadn’t talked to his parents in god knows how long. They had no cause for alarm as far as Iwaizumi was concerned. When the thoughts kept him up at night, he’d play chess until he physically could not bear to look at the board anymore, then look out over the garden. He saw Nightshade there every night, and every night, he received a wave. Iwaizumi wondered when he had started to look forward to it.

It must have been nearly two weeks before he saw Nightshade again. There was no midnight-borne note to warn Iwaizumi of his arrival, so imagine his surprise when he heard the door creaking open while he was taking a piss. Iwaizumi went still, well, mostly, he was still pissing, and he tried to prevent from crumbling into ash as he heard Nightshade’s laughter fill the room.

“A little indisposed today, Iwa-chan?” Nightshade choked out between fits of laughter. Iwaizumi could feel the blush infecting every inch of his skin as he clothed himself and moved toward the spigot to wash his hands.

“Have you ever heard of knocking?” Iwaizumi asked, tossing a glare in Nightshade’s direction. He wasn’t sure he could meet his eyes after that little display of humanity. Nightshade just took a seat on the stool and watched him.

“Do you _need_ something?” Iwaizumi asked. Scrubbing a palm across his face.

“I see you’ve taken good care of the plant. I think it could rejoin the patch soon—” Nightshade began.

“No!” Iwaizumi interjected, whirling to face Nightshade, who was wearing an irritatingly bemused expression.

“And why not? It is my plant, after all.” Nightshade replied coolly. Iwaizumi tossed his shoulders in a shrug.

“I…like it. I like taking care of it.” He explained lamely, cheeks heating at the little lovely smile that crossed Nightshade’s face.

“Very well, you may keep your lily.” Nightshade began smiling into the words, but as quick as the smile appeared it vanished, the light in his eyes replaced with a look so haunting that Iwaizumi looked away, but Nightshade continued, “They are lovely, aren’t they?” As Iwaizumi watched Nightshade’s expression shift further and further from the joy that had lived there just moments ago, Iwaizumi felt his feet pulling him forward. Iwaizumi wanted to stop, he really did, but he kept going until he was just inches from Nightshade.

Iwaizumi wished Nightshade would look at him with the same fire as the night he’d almost been murdered, or like he’d just won another chess game, or even the dumb smile he’d had on his face after Iwaizumi said he liked the garden. _Anything_ but the utter sorrow that pooled in his eyes now. Iwaizumi mimicked Nightshade from the night they met, placing a single finger under his chin. His heart thundered in his chest. He was well aware that he was likely centimeters from death, but he was allegedly supposed to be dead a thousand times over already. What was a thousand and one?

“They are lovely, Nightshade. Thank you for the plant.” Iwaizumi said, relaxing as he saw Nightshade’s eyes come back to life. Nightshade held his gaze before springing to his feet and crossing to the chess board which was already set up thanks to Iwaizumi’s incessant practicing.

“How about a game of chess?” Nightshade said, seating himself behind the rows of white pieces.

“Only if we can play for your name again.” Iwaizumi replied, taking a seat across from the brunette. Nightshade just laughed, but extended his hand. Iwaizumi took it, shook it firmly, and readied himself to play. He’d figured out how Nightshade kept beating him before. He’d stumbled upon that strategy while playing himself nearly a week ago. He hoped that would be enough to buy him a little more time, and hopefully have the game end in more than six moves. Iwaizumi watched Nightshade as they played, noting how his gaze traveled over every piece on the board before making his move. It was silent for nearly thirty minutes as they duked it out before Nightshade spoke.

“Someone has been practicing.” He remarked, hovering his hand over his knight. Iwaizumi looked up at him, wondering if this was some tactic to mess with him.

“Every night.” He replied, focused on Nightshade’s every move.

“It’s not enough, Iwa-chan. Do keep at it though.” Nightshade said. Iwaizumi looked up at him in confusion before Nightshade moved his rook to corner Iwaizumi’s king. “Checkmate.” Nightshade said calmly. Iwaizumi wanted to flip the damn board over, but instead he spoke.

“What would you like to know? And, technically, I owe you one for last time, so have at it.” Iwaizumi said. Nightshade raked his gaze over Iwaizumi’s face as he thought, taking in every detail. Iwaizumi had never felt more self-conscious in his life. You try having Apollo reincarnated look _you_ over. See how _you_ feel.

“Tell me something no one knows about you.” Nightshade said, cradling his face in his hands. Iwaizumi smiled at the sight.

“When I was in the sixth grade, our class had a pet turtle. His name was George.” Nightshade broke into a grin, “No, no wait, I’m not done. Anyway, the teacher had no idea how to take care of this turtle, so it lived a miserable life. One day, I’m assigned to clean the classroom after school, and I set George free into the pond at the park. The teacher was looking all over hell for this damn turtle for weeks. He was scared it was dead under a stack of papers somewhere, but I was the only one who really knew where he was. Well—” Iwaizumi stopped, tossing a wink at Nightshade “Now you know, too” Nightshade blinked at him before laughing into his shoulder. It wasn’t quite the same as how he’d laughed before. This one took over his whole body as he tried to silence the sound. Iwaizumi smiled, wondering if he should tell the story of George the Poor Bastard Turtle more often.

When Nightshade gained his composure at long last, he turned back to Iwaizumi.

“Okay, okay. That was pretty good I have to admit. My second question is: Dogs or Cats?” Another question Iwaizumi didn’t even have to think about.

“Cats all the way! It’s not that I don’t like dogs or anything, but cats aren’t always up in my business all the time. I like that you have to earn their favor. I think it makes the relationship more…meaningful.” Iwaizumi said plainly. He heard Nightshade snort at the response and rolled his eyes. Before Iwaizumi could come up with anything to snark back, Nightshade was on his feet with a gasp.

“Wait one second, Iwa-chan!” He called over his shoulder as he bolted out the door.

Five minutes later, Nightshade returned, cradling a bundle of fur in his arms. Nightshade held out the cat proudly.

“Look!” He smiled, placing the cat down on the bed next to Iwaizumi, who eyed Nightshade skeptically.

“Don’t tell me Aoba Johsai specializes in catnapping too?” he said. Nightshade just shook his head.

“She’s Kozume’s!” he replied, but that didn’t do much to answer any of Iwaizumi’s many questions.

“Kozume…?” Iwaizumi said, testing the name.

“Ah! She belongs to Yew. You know, the little one with the horrendous hair?” Nightshade elaborated, and Iwaizumi found himself smiling at the description. Difficult as it was to tear his eyes from Nightshade, the little tabby thing demanded his attention.

“Hey there sweetheart.” Iwaizumi cooed, wishing he hated the way his voice pitched as he said it. He gave her a scratch behind her ears, heart melting as she leaned into it with a purr. The two spent quite some time attending to the cat before Iwaizumi had The Idea.

“Nightshade,” Iwaizumi began, surprised to find those gilded eyes already on him, “I think I can beat you at something.”

“Unlikely,” Nightshade remarked, “Go on.” Iwaizumi fought to keep the smirk off his face as he explained.

“Arm wrestling, same rules as last time, if I win, you tell me your name.” Iwaizumi said.

“I’m afraid that’s against house rules, Iwa-chan. My name has already been bet on.” Nightshade replied casually, running his fingers down the cat’s back.

“Fine,” Iwaizumi stated, “Then we’ll play for mine.”

Moments later they were ready. Given, it wasn’t exactly dignified. There wasn’t a table in the room, so they just placed the chess board over the toilet and agreed not to think about it too much. Iwaizumi told Nightshade he could call the start, seeing as he was quite confident he wouldn’t lose.

“Ready…” Nightshade said, wrapping his hand around Iwaizumi’s, “Set…” the grip tightened, “Go!”

Nightshade was stronger than he looked, Iwaizumi would give him credit for that, but there was a reason he was the undisputed champion of arm wrestling for the past decade or so. Thirty seconds later, Iwaizumi was slamming Nightshade’s hand down on the chessboard, and laughing at the rather ineloquent look his face.

“Alright,” Nightshade said, flexing his hand, “What would you like to know?” Iwaizumi thought it over for a while, but there really was only one thing he wanted to know besides Nightshade’s true name.

“Why are you in the garden every night?” He asked, and Nightshade’s face went blank for a moment before his features schooled themselves back into the perfect guise of serenity.

“The same reason you don’t want me to take back the Lily of the Valley. I’ve grown attached to it over the years, and there’s so many things I…” Nightshade turned his gaze to the window, “It’s just nice to take care of something for once.” He finished. Iwaizumi nodded his head in solemn understanding. The two shared silence for a moment before Nightshade spoke again.

“Would you like to see it? I mean _really_ see it?” He asked, anxious eyes falling over Iwaizumi.

“I would like that very much.” Iwaizumi responded. At that, Nightshade rose to his feet and headed toward the door. “And, Nightshade?” Nightshade stopped, turning to face Iwaizumi, “Thank you for the tofu.” Iwaizumi noticed the subtle pink that dusted the very tops of Nightshade’s cheekbones. Nightshade inclined his head.

“Of course. Anything for you.” And even long after he had gone, Iwaizumi found himself mouthing the words as he went about his day.

_Anything for you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as always! See you all tomorrow! Leave any thoughts below, I LOVE hearing them


	4. Chapter Four: Look At Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi gets a key and still sucks at chess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my dearests ! Thank you so much for your continued interest in this! There is a panic attack in this chapter, if that is something you are not interested in reading it begins right after: Iwaizumi was suddenly made aware of the pounding of his heart. and ends at: Iwaizumi’s chest stopped its heaving, and he focused on Nightshade’s eyes. As always, stay so safe and thank you for reading!

Hanamaki arrived around five, bento in hand, nothing out of place save for the note taped to the top, sealed with an obnoxious evergreen wax with the image of a single ivy leaf stamped into it. Iwaizumi wanted to roll his eyes at the grandiosity of it all. Because _seriously_ who needed to seal a note that probably had less than a sentence on it anyway? Nonetheless, Hanamaki eyed the note and Iwaizumi both with equal amounts of suspicion. Iwaizumi reached for the bento, but Hanamaki lifted it out of reach.

“Who are you?” Hanamaki asked, holding the box above his head like a child. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. See, this had become fairly commonplace at this point. Hanamaki was distrustful of Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi found this rather interesting, considering that if anyone had the right to be distrustful here, it was him.

“Iwaizumi, lover of Godzilla and Agedashi tofu, and recently kidnapped by the Aoba Johsai Mafia.” Iwaizumi replied, reciting the line he always had.

“Yeah, yeah, Iwaizumi super mega fucking nerd, and lover of nasty-ass food. Just a _totally normal dude_ who managed to get Nightshade wrapped around his thick-ass fingers.” Hanamaki said, extending the food. Iwaizumi looked down at his hands, he didn’t think his fingers were that thick. He wanted to ignore the part where Hanamaki mentioned Nightshade, but to be honest, Iwaizumi himself didn’t know what warranted the attention from the man. He’d been alive long enough to know that captors did not often visit their prisoners for games of chess, or give them plants, or promise them walks through the garden.

Iwaizumi turned his attention to the note. He slid a (not that thick) finger under the seal, careful not to break it. It was rather beautiful, after all. He unfolded it slowly, careful to keep it away from Hanamaki’s prying eyes.

_Tonight._

_-Nightshade_

_p.s. Any other requests?_

Iwaizumi smiled as he read it, but the feeling faded quickly. As much as he enjoyed not being dead, the confines of his room were starting to get to him. The walls that had seemed to offer a semblance of safety before were now suffocating. He desperately needed to get out. He could feel ants dancing along his skin, floating through his bloodstream. Iwaizumi was suddenly made aware of the pounding of his heart.

 _No. No. No._ Iwaizumi thought, noting the way his breath was starting to come quickly, much too quickly. Hanamaki said something, but it fell on deaf ears as Iwaizumi started to rake his hands through his hair. His chest was on _fire_ , everything was too big and too small all at once. His ribs crushed his lungs and his skull cracked under the pressure of his swelling brain. He felt Hanamaki’s hands on his shoulders, felt the way they held him to the spot. Iwaizumi turned his wild eyes on Hanamaki who was still talking, saying something Iwaizumi couldn’t decipher over the choking sounds in his throat. Hanamaki pulled something from his pocket, pressing a button, and turning his eyes on the door.

Iwaizumi’s vision was blurring at the edges, and he couldn’t tell if he was screaming or not. Nothing was making sense, everywhere he looked there were walls, where there weren’t walls there were locked doors, locked windows, and then there was Iwaizumi. Locked up between them all. The panic dripped down his back, pooled in his chest, and coated his throat in an oily film. He was sure he was going to die. Iwaizumi tucked his knees to his chest and put his head back against the wall.

This hadn’t happened since the first time he’d lost a patient. He’d vowed it would never happen again. The memory of the day came back in full force. The little girl who had fallen from her bicycle, the way her mother _screamed_ , the father as he stormed out. Iwaizumi felt the tears, it was all too much. Everything was too much, and he was too _little_.

It was a spiral. Pulling him down, down, down, comforted and horrified by the terror in his chest. There was everything, but nothing. There was the calm and the storm, and Iwaizumi was somewhere in the grey area, gagged but screaming. He didn’t know which he preferred.

Iwaizumi heard the door open, but refused to open his eyes. He had registered Hanamaki leaving a while ago, but time was a concept foreign to him at the moment.

“Look at me.” The command came, he recognized that voice, but it sounded too far away to be real.

“Look at me.” It said again, but Iwaizumi just shut his eyes tighter. He knew if he opened his eyes, he’d see that tiny room, the cage he’d come to call home, and he’d lose it.

“Look at me.” Close this time, loud this time, _real this time._ Iwaizumi pulled his head from his knees, slowing his breathing. He opened his eyes, expecting to be sent right back into the hell he’d climbed from. But there was no room, there was no bed, there was no stool, there was only a landscape of ochre, and a chorus of ivory. It wasn’t blurring at the edges; it was sharp and smooth all at once. It was _safe_.

Iwaizumi’s chest stopped its heaving, and he focused on Nightshade’s eyes.

“Good,” Nightshade whispered, “Good.” Iwaizumi just nodded, chin dipping of its own accord. Iwaizumi turned to look out the window, but Nightshade just moved to block his view, keeping Iwaizumi’s eyes on his own.

“Look at me.” Nightshade said again.

“Okay.” Iwaizumi whispered, and he did. He held Nightshade’s gaze as he felt his heartbeat slow. He held it until the thoughts cleared, and he held it after. He’d hold it forever. Nightshade was the first to move, seating himself next to Iwaizumi.

“I’m sorry.” Nightshade said. Iwaizumi didn’t expect an explanation, it was one of the things that fell under self-explanatory, “I’m sorry, but I’m trying. These things take…time. They require unanimity.” Iwaizumi would have liked an explanation for that, but he was tired, and he didn’t expect he’d receive an answer anyway. Iwaizumi rested his head on the wall.

“Why do you keep coming here?” Iwaizumi asked, staring at the ceiling. Nightshade sighed beside him.

“I don’t know yet.” Nightshade replied. “You should get some sleep.” Iwaizumi nodded, expecting Nightshade to leave. Instead, he crossed the room to stare out the window. Iwaizumi would have asked about it, but his body failed him. His eyelids slid shut before his head hit the pillow.

Iwaizumi woke to a second plant on the windowsill. He smiled at the looping cursive scrawled on the pot.

_Skyflower, highly toxic to most everything except songbirds. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about the garden. I’ll see you tonight._

_-Nightshade_

For the first time since he arrived, he allowed a little bit of hope to bloom in his chest. He’d come to terms with the idea of a before and after. Maybe this was the after. Maybe it would be okay. Nightshade arrived late that night, once again barging in without knocking to find Iwaizumi huddled over the chessboard.

“Oh? What is this?” Nightshade teased, coming to lean over the board, a nasty little smile on his face.

“What does it look like, dumbass?” Iwaizumi responded, trying to figure out how put the white pieces in checkmate. Nightshade took a seat opposite Iwaizumi, looking down at the pieces.

“Not bad, Iwa-chan!” He said, moving the queen to effectively demolish Iwaizumi’s black pieces. “but not quite.” Iwaizumi wanted to wipe the look off of Nightshade’s face. He settled for chucking the rook at him instead. Nightshade just caught it and laughed.

“Why have you chosen to grace me with your presence tonight?” Iwaizumi asked, rearranging the pieces.

“Have you forgotten already? We’re going to the garden.” Nightshade said, rising to his feet and extending a hand to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi ignored the offer, choosing to haul himself to his feet with a grunt he was half-embarrassed by. There wasn’t exactly a gym lying around, so he blamed it on that. Iwaizumi stuck out his wrists, and Nightshade quirked an eyebrow at him.

“What are you doing?” Nightshade asked, gaze dropping to Iwaizumi’s arms.

“Aren’t you gonna tie them?” Iwaizumi asked, Nightshade just stayed silent, “So I don’t like sneak up on you or something?” Nightshade stared at Iwaizumi, an undecipherable expression crossing his features, but as quickly as it appeared it vanished.

“You couldn’t sneak up on me if you tried. Let’s go.” Nightshade said, opening the door. Iwaizumi eyed the hallway suspiciously, refusing to move from the doorway.

“Iwa-chan if you’re tired, we can just go tomorrow. I thought you’d be eager to get out a little though, if I’m being honest.” Iwaizumi just looked at him.

“I…I’d like to go, it’s…” Iwaizumi started, shuffling his feet, clinging to the door. Understanding flashed on Nightshade’s face.

“Ah, I see. Give me your arm.” Nightshade said, extending his own. Iwaizumi stuck the appendage out awkwardly, half terrified and half curious. Nightshade wrapped his hand around Iwaizumi’s arm, just below the elbow, waiting for Iwaizumi to return the favor. Suddenly Nightshade got _way_ too fucking close, pressing his forehead to Iwaizumi’s. Iwaizumi swallowed hard, wondering if Nightshade had ever bitten someone’s throat out.

“You have to look at me, or it doesn’t really count.” Nightshade said. Iwaizumi flicked his eyes up to Nightshade, wondering if he looked as scared as he felt. “I swear I will not harm you in any way if you leave this room. I am bound by these words. If I violate the terms, I will answer for my actions with my life.” Nightshade finished, dropping Iwaizumi’s arm. Iwaizumi just stared at him, because _what the hell was that,_ but took a step forward nonetheless.

Iwaizumi followed Nightshade down several stairways and corridors. Nearly every wall was decorated in some kind of plant imagery or another. Iwaizumi didn’t know if he was impressed or turned off by how tacky it was, not that it mattered. They had arrived at the garden gate, and Nightshade stopped and faced Iwaizumi.

“A few rules,” Nightshade started, “Do not touch anything with a red tag. You’ll probably die. Don’t eat _anything_ , and if you touch anything with a yellow tag wash your hands before touching anything else.”

“I’m not going to eat your garden.” Iwaizumi huffed, sort of embarrassed that Nightshade even felt the need to say that. With that, Nightshade swung open the gate to reveal the garden Iwaizumi had spent so long studying from afar.

It was even more breathtaking in person. Besides the sheer amount of green there were flowers of every color. Some of the bushes bore fruit while others had needles, Iwaizumi sucked in a breath.

“You did this?” He breathed, gaze panning around the courtyard. Nightshade just nodded, leading Iwaizumi down the first row. The row contained mostly bushes and trees. Every so often Nightshade would interrupt with facts about the various plants, mostly facts about how poisonous they were. Iwaizumi’s wonder grew with every plant they passed. They were somewhere between the third and fourth row when Iwaizumi recognized one of the plants.

“Skyflower!” Iwaizumi said, noting the yellow tag on the plant. He turned to find Nightshade smiling down at him.

“Indeed, it is.” He said, “Pretty little thing. Don’t eat it though, really wouldn’t benefit you” He smiled, reaching out to run a finger along the leaves. They continued their walk through the garden, stopping at the Lily of the Valley. Iwaizumi watched Nightshade closely. Hoping against hope that the haunted look would stay far from Nightshade’s eyes. No such luck. Nightshade stared straight into the patch, not a single expression ghosting through his eyes, save for that look of defeat that Iwaizumi recognized from before.

“Nightshade?” Iwaizumi spoke. Nightshade tore his focus from the plant to look at Iwaizumi. Slowly, Nightshade shook his head. The message was clear: _Don’t ask._ Iwaizumi nodded in reply and walked toward a collection of droopy pink flowers, giving Nightshade a moment alone with his creation. Nightshade rejoined him a moment later, mask reassembled.

“Spindle tree, results in kidney and liver failure if ingested.” He said simply. Nightshade led them back to Iwaizumi’s room. They walked in silence, the light still not returning to Nightshade’s eyes.

“I set a chem lab on fire once.” Iwaizumi blurted. Nightshade’s eyes snapped to him, brows vanishing behind smooth waves.

“You _what_?” Nightshade said, amusement replacing the emptiness in his eyes.

“Yeah. I thought I’d turned the burner off, but I hadn’t so when I reversed the flow of the gas, it…kind of…blew up.” Iwaizumi continued, “My lab coat caught on fire, and I didn’t have eyebrows for like six months. Man, O-chem was a trip and a half.” He finished, delighting in the way Nightshade smiled at him. It felt a little bit right, perhaps righter than most things he’d lived through. Curious, how things change.

“I electrocuted myself once.” Nightshade offered, and Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks.

“And you _lived_?” Iwaizumi said, incredulous.

“Barely. It was touch and go there for a minute.” Nightshade laughed, “I was trying to get my toast out of the toaster, but the bread was too hot, so I stuck a fork in there.” Nightshade said. Iwaizumi couldn’t stop the laugh that erupted from him.

“You’re kidding. You _literally_ stuck a fork in a toaster?” He said between fits of laughter, “What’s next blow drying your hair in the bathtub?”

“Hey, if it saves time, it saves time!” Nightshade joked. They stopped at the door, Iwaizumi still laughing. Iwaizumi leaned back against the hard wood, taking in Nightshade completely, for the first time.

“Thank you for showing me that. I can’t believe you did all of that. It’s—”

“Calm down, Iwa-chan, it’s nothing much.” Nightshade cut him off. Iwaizumi looked at him.

“Nothing much? It’s incredible.” Iwaizumi said, Nightshade averted his eyes.

“I’ll take you anytime you want to see it.” He said, cheekbones blooming with color.

“I’d like that very much. Until I know as much about the plants as you, I’ll never be satisfied.” Iwaizumi said. It was partly a joke, but Nightshade seemed to perk up at the words.

“Impossible, but you can try. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Nightshade said before darting off down the hallway. Iwaizumi closed the door after him, the click of the lock slipping between his ribs. _He’s trying_. Iwaizumi reminded himself.

The walks through the garden became a nightly occurrence. Often, Nightshade would spend an entire night dedicated to telling Iwaizumi as much about a particular plant as he could remember. Iwaizumi didn’t ask questions when he skipped over Lily of the Valley.

It was about two weeks later that it happened. Instead of Hanamaki’s familiar face bringing dinner, Nightshade stepped into the room, presenting Iwaizumi with the box. Iwaizumi reached for it, but Nightshade didn’t let go.

“Larkspur.” He commanded, and Iwaizumi racked his brain.

“Cause paralysis and often death.” Iwaizumi rattled off.

“Correct, but only the young ones, don’t forget that part.” Nightshade amended handing off the bento to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi dug into the food as Nightshade set up the chessboard. Iwaizumi readied himself to play. They played chess nearly every day now, and Iwaizumi practiced hours on hours when Nightshade wasn’t around. He knew he’d gotten better, but just when he thought he’d win a game, Nightshade would turn the whole thing around, leaving Iwaizumi without victory and without his name.

“Iwaizumi.” Nightshade said as he moved out his pawn. That caught his attention. He could count on one finger the amount of times Nightshade had called him Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi stared at the man opposite of him, expecting an explanation. “I’m going to be…out of town for the next week or so, as will most of the members. Kozume and Tetsurou will be here, but I don’t exactly think they’ll make for the best company. I don’t want you to be…” Nightshade trailed off before clearing his throat. “I’d like to offer you something.” Nightshade finished.

“I’m listening.” Iwaizumi said, watching as Nightshade pulled a key from his pocket, placing it on the board. “It’s the key to the garden. You’re free to go whenever you wish. I simply request that you don’t eat anything, and water the plants.” Nightshade’s voice was hushed, and Iwaizumi got the impression that there was something bigger in motion.

“How do I…get out of here?” Iwaizumi asked, and Nightshade produced a little device, similar to the one Hanamaki had used a few weeks ago. “This will page Kozume and Tetsurou, one of them will come to let you out.” Nightshade explained, “Ah! A few things. Kozume and Tetsurou are horrible cooks, I’m sorry for whatever excuse for dinner they give you. Also, Tetsurou is quite… _sensitive_ about the use of his codename. Use it. You already know Kozume goes by Yew, and honestly, he doesn’t give two shits. Tetsurou goes by Kingcup. Other than that, I assume you’ll be taken care of.” He finished, Iwaizumi committed the name to memory, fairly certain that other members may care less about whether he lived or died than Nightshade seemed to. Iwaizumi nodded.

“Where are you going?” He asked, fully prepared to receive a non-answer.

“We’ve got some business with Karasuno to take care of. Old business. I’m hoping this is the last time I’ll see any of their damned faces again.” Nightshade spat. Iwaizumi had never seen such fury in Nightshade’s eyes. He was glad that he was not the cause.

Nightshade won the game, which came as a surprise to exactly no one, but Iwaizumi had managed to put him in check once. You know, the small victories and all that. Nightshade stood to leave, but Iwaizumi caught his sleeve.

“Nightshade…” Iwaizumi started, not quite sure how to put it. The silence yawned between them, but Nightshade waited. “um… be safe.”

“Always am. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” Nightshade smiled into the words, but there was that same untraceable look in his eyes.

Something about it made Iwaizumi’s stomach turn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hehehehe I cannot wait for next chapter oml


	5. Chapter Five: The Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Kenma should really take a seat and Iwaizumi makes a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you all so much for your support! I love reading your comments so much, honestly I don't know how the most thoughtful and kind people end up making their way over to me, but I'm so grateful. Enjoy this chapter! I didn't post it yesterday because I currently have 3 WIPs (including this one) going on right now. If you're interested in reading them just click on my name, theres another IwaOi (because,,,,soulmates hehe) and a KGHN (but its sad, fair warning) ANywaY, here it is!

The morning Nightshade left, Iwaizumi watched from the window as he climbed into a black SUV, decorated with an ivy leaf hood ornament. Iwaizumi wondered why they would bother identifying their vehicles. Aoba Johsai wasn’t exactly in the most legal of all the industries, and it seemed unwise to drive around announcing to all the world who they were. The thought pestered Iwaizumi for a while before he eventually decided it was none of his business. Besides, if they all got arrested, Iwaizumi could probably go home.

However, that thought only produced a more troubling one. He wasn’t exactly raring to go. Iwaizumi wanted to kick himself for becoming comfortable in the mansion, and he wanted to kick himself harder because he knew the reason he’d become rather comfortable with his hostage status essentially boiled down to Nightshade. If a pompous pretty boy was all it took for Iwaizumi to embrace the idea of permanent imprisonment, then Iwaizumi didn’t know _what_ kind of person that made him.

Two hours after Nightshade had driven off, he pressed the button, and, like magic, it summoned the little half-blonde creature.

“Yew.” Iwaizumi said by way of greeting. Yew was staring down at the gaming console in his hand, but Iwaizumi still saw the roll of his eyes.

“Just call me Kenma. You’re not a member, so you don’t have to call me anything stupid.” He said, holding the door open with his foot. Nightshade had been right about Kenma not giving two shits. Iwaizumi stayed still, expecting Kenma to give some sort of signal. “Are you coming? I want to sit down.” He said instead, and Iwaizumi wasted no time in getting to the door. Once he was past the threshold, he felt a tug on his sleeve. Kenma’s eyes were still downcast as he spoke.

“Do you know how to get there, or…?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” Iwaizumi said heading off down the hallway.

“Just come back when you’re done. I don’t want to deal with Nightshade if you run off somewhere.” Kenma said. Iwaizumi turned to reassure him he wouldn’t leave, but the blonde was already stalking back to whatever cavern he had emerged from.

It was true that Iwaizumi found the plant imagery to be tacky at first, but after taking the walk so many times with Nightshade, listening to the stories and symbolism behind it all, he actually found it to be rather interesting. Iwaizumi’s thoughts drifted over the conversations they had had, and found himself wishing Nightshade was there to tell him another. Iwaizumi shook his head to banish the thought before unlocking the gate. Per the usual, it was magnificent.

Nightshade had left rather specific instructions on how to water the plants, including directions that specified what temperature the water should be at. Iwaizumi had rolled his eyes, but he knew how much Nightshade cared about his garden, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try his best. Once the water was at optimum temperature, he made his way down the rows, reciting little plant facts under his breath.

“Wolfsbane can stop the heart.” He muttered as he watered the plant. Typically, this is where Nightshade would interject with the other side effects, but this time a gentle breeze was the only response. Iwaizumi took extra care with the Lily of the Valley, checking the soil pH and taking a clipping from the tagged plant. Nightshade asked that he leave the clipping with Kenma when he was done. Iwaizumi had wanted to ask what for, but he knew better than that.

Iwaizumi locked the gate before heading back up to his room, surprised to find Kenma lounging on the bed, cursing over his game. Kenma stuck out his hand for the clipping, Iwaizumi depositing it accordingly and fully expecting Kenma to slink away to god knows where.

“He likes you.” Kenma said, not meeting Iwaizumi’s eyes.

“What?” Iwaizumi said, like he’d been accused.

“None of us are allowed in the garden. I heard you asked for his name, and you’re still breathing. He cooks your food. He likes you. What I don’t know is why.” Kenma said like he was reciting words from the dictionary.

“Wait. He cooks my food?” Iwaizumi asked, mouth hanging open.

“Yes. He cooks for all of us, but he always cooks you something different. Close your mouth, you look like an idiot.” Kenma continued. Iwaizumi shut his mouth quickly, unsure how to react to Kenma.

“That’s better than him trying to kill me.” Iwaizumi said, and Kenma snorted out a laugh.

“Maybe.” He said, “It means he’s letting his guard down.” Kenma continued pushing buttons before chucking the thing on the bed, letting out a string of curses that almost made Iwaizumi blush at the vulgarity. Kenma looked at him, golden eyes positively burning. Iwaizumi watched as Kenma casually slipped a knife from his sleeve, cleaning his fingernails in the most threatening manner Iwaizumi had ever seen anyone complete the task.

“Nightshade might trust you, for whatever reason, but I don’t. If you harm him in _any way_ , you’ll be dead before you hit the floor.” Kenma said, hopping off the bed and taking his console with him. He shut the door softly, but it didn’t stop the chill from seeping into Iwaizumi’s bones. Iwaizumi couldn’t pretend to understand gang loyalty or whatever, but he knew when someone was serious. And Kenma was not fucking lying.

Nightshade was right about them being horrible cooks. When Kingcup arrived with two slices of bread and a log of salami Iwaizumi had to bite back a laugh. Nevertheless, Iwaizumi accepted it, already anticipating that Kingcup would have something to say.

“I’ve been waiting to meet you, but Nightshade has been so adamant that we stay away from you, the selfish bastard.” Kingcup said, and Iwaizumi nearly choked on his salami. “What? Are you surprised? Nightshade suddenly starts spending all his time with the hostage, and I’m not allowed to be curious?” He continued, pacing the length of the room.

“Depends. Are you curious because you actually want to know who I am, or because you’re also going to threaten me?” Iwaizumi said around a mouthful of (stale) bread.

“Oh, did Kenma give you the spiel already?” Kingcup asked, putting his obnoxious ass head with his obnoxious ass haircut in Iwaizumi’s space. Iwaizumi nodded.

“If the spiel was about killing me if I did anything to hurt Nightshade, then yes. I don’t know why you all see me as a threat considering Hanamaki of the fruity-ass-pink-hair took me down, but I guess it is what it is.” Iwaizumi said. Kingcup held his gaze for a moment before breaking out into what was quite possibly the ugliest fit of laughter Iwaizumi had ever seen. He laughed until tears leaked from the corner of his eyes, and Iwaizumi didn’t really think his D-list insult had warranted such a reaction.

“You’re _funny_ , dude! I get it now. Nightshade didn’t want any of us to feel any joy so he kept you hidden away!” Kingcup gave Iwaizumi’s shoulder a playful shove before his expression grew more serious.

“Kenma’s been around longer than most of us, about the same time as Hanamaki and Matsukawa, if I remember correctly. A few years back Nightshade got hurt pretty bad. It was hard to watch, if I’m honest. Kenma took it hard too, felt like he should have done more, y’know? So, his heart’s in the right place if that makes you feel better.” Kingcup said. It didn’t make Iwaizumi feel any better. Iwaizumi didn’t even know what happened, and he was kinda pissed about it. He couldn’t imagine how he’d feel if he’d actually _been_ there for it.

“Are you done giving the hostage a rundown of our history, or should I wait a little longer?” Kenma said from the doorway. Kingcup startled at the voice, but just winked at Kenma. “You couldn’t stand up that long if you wanted to.” Kingcup teased, delighting in the little wrinkle that appeared in Kenma’s brow. Kenma turned to leave, but Iwaizumi caught his attention.

“Kenma!” Iwaizumi called, trying not to laugh at the way Kenma visibly recoiled from his voice, “you’ve got the cat, right?” Iwaizumi asked, feeling quite accomplished as a little smile played on Kenma’s lips.

“Yes, she’s mine. Speaking of, Stardew is probably getting hungry.” He mused, staring down the hall.

“Stardew? Like Stardew Valley?” Iwaizumi asked, and Kenma turned his attention back to him.

“How did you know that?” Kenma asked, smile still perched on his face.

“I had a patient once who was really into the game. I saw you earlier with your console, so I figured…” Iwaizumi trailed off.

“You’re a doctor?” Kingcup asked, eyes wide. Iwaizumi just nodded, sparing the details about the differences between being an attending and a resident. Kingcup let out a low whistle before exchanging a look with Kenma. Kingcup asked a few more questions before Kenma eventually decided it was time to go, leaving Iwaizumi with his chess board. It was different this time. Usually, Nightshade was near enough that practicing seemed like a valuable use of time, but now that he was gone, the black and white pieces didn’t seem nearly as appealing. Iwaizumi knew he was being ridiculous. Nightshade would only be gone for the week, and even worse, if Iwaizumi didn’t manage to get at least a little better while he was gone, Nightshade would surely pick up on it. Iwaizumi loosed a sigh and set up the board.

On the fifth day since Nightshade left, Iwaizumi found himself enjoying the time he’d been spending with Kenma and Kingcup. He’d started summoning his two keepers more often, sometimes he’d ask them to play a round of chess, or, most notably, he’d ask Kenma if he could see Stardew. Kingcup and Iwaizumi got along quite well, arm-wrestling twice a day and talking about chemistry whenever else. Kingcup also got a kick out of the story of the blown up chem lab. Additionally, Iwaizumi was defending his title as Arm Wrestling Champion well, and he was quite proud of that fact. He got along with Kenma too, barring the little death threat incident on the first day, but Iwaizumi was willing to let bygones be bygones.

It was well after eleven, he’d stayed up chatting with Kingcup while Kenma played his game in the corner with Stardew purring on his lap. For the first time since Nightshade left, Iwaizumi found himself feeling not so lonely.

“Iwaizumi?” Kingcup asked, turning to face him, “I know Nightshade has taken a liking to you, but have you taken a liking to him?” Iwaizumi willed his face not to turn red as he looked back at Kingcup.

“He’s…interesting.” Iwaizumi started, ignoring Kenma’s snort from the corner, “He’s not exactly what I expected, and in pretty much every way he’s better than I expected he’d be.”

“Pretty much?” Kingcup pressed.

“I mean he’s still annoying as all fuck and has an ego the size of Asia, but yeah, he’s better than I thought.” Iwaizumi finished. Kingcup stared at him before another round of hyena laughing overtook him.

“Well, you’re right about one thing. He is annoying as all fuck.” Kingcup said, and Kenma hummed in agreement from the bed. Iwaizumi wondered why he hadn’t touched on the ego the size of Asia, but didn’t let himself dwell on it for too long. When the two decided to leave, Iwaizumi took note of Kingcup’s hand on the small of Kenma’s back. He let himself wonder if there was _something_ going on there, but he figured (once again) it was none of his glorious business. Iwaizumi prided himself on minding his own, and he would keep up with it, curiosity be damned.

Iwaizumi thought on Kingcup’s question. He thought on the obvious answer. He _had_ taken a liking to Nightshade, more so than he’d care to admit, honestly. Iwaizumi didn’t know what to make of it. He wasn’t so far gone as to not realize exactly how strange the situation was, but he also didn’t know what to do about the way Nightshade’s brown eyes did something to him. On more than one occasion he’d considered reaching out to run his fingers through Nightshade’s hair. It just looked so _soft_. Iwaizumi shut out the thoughts before he could stew on the issue too long, training his eyes on the ceiling and slowly drifting off. Iwaizumi woke to the sound of his door being slammed open, and a moment later felt Kingcup’s weight being slammed down on the bed.

“Iwaizumi.” Kingcup said, his voice ironed out into what Iwaizumi assumed was his best impression of calm. “Iwaizumi you need to get up _now_.” Kingcup said, wrapping an arm around Iwaizumi’s wrist and hauling him to a seated position. Iwaizumi scrubbed at his face before turning to look at Kingcup.

“What time is it?” Iwaizumi asked, wondering if he had even spoken real actual words.

“It’s a little bit past three. Stand up.” Kingcup said before pulling Iwaizumi to his feet. Iwaizumi looked at Kingcup, finally absorbing the panic that was flashing in his eyes.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute, what’s wrong. Tell me what’s wrong.” Iwaizumi demanded, rooting himself to the spot.

“Move already!” Kingcup yelled, “I—we—he— _Nightshade_ doesn’t have a minute for you to wait around asking stupid questions! Walk and talk, Iwaizumi.” He finished before yanking Iwaizumi out the door. Iwaizumi stumbled after Kingcup as his legs woke up. Kingcup was babbling utter nonsense, and Iwaizumi stopped in his tracks.

“Kingcup. Tell me what is going on, now. I don’t give a _fuck_ if you kill me or whatever, but tell me what is happening.” Iwaizumi said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Kingcup just pulled him forward, but started explaining.

“Karasuno operation went south. Nightshade’s hurt. Bad. Really fucking bad.” Kingcup explained. Iwaizumi felt his stomach sink to his shoes.

“What the fuck are you _doing_!” Iwaizumi shouted, “take him to the hospital!” Kingcup looked at him like he was stupid, but didn’t waste time explaining.

“Not an option.” He said, “You’re a doctor, right? You’re the best chance he’s got.” Kingcup said, taking the stairs three at a time. Iwaizumi felt his heart start to race. First of all, he wasn’t exactly a full-fledged master of the medical art. Second, he focused on kids, and the differences are more pronounced than you’d think. Iwaizumi wanted to ignore the dread. If Nightshade really was hurt as bad as Kingcup was making it sound…Iwaizumi didn’t let himself think about it. It wasn’t like he’d never seen someone hurt before. He was confident he’d be able to be of some help.

Kingcup stopped in front of a giant mahogany door, gold dripped from the knots in the wood, and Iwaizumi would have admired it longer had Kingcup not gripped his shoulder.

“Please, help him.” Kingcup pleaded. Iwaizumi just nodded before pushing against the door.

The first thing he noticed was the blood.

 _Holy shit. Holy mother of god._ Iwaizumi thought as he looked down at Nightshade. The man was lying on the floor, a sheet underneath him. Iwaizumi knelt next to him, checking for a pulse. He let a single drop of relief trickle into him when he found one. It was weak, but Iwaizumi had seen worse, had _fixed_ worse.

“Iwa-chan,” Nightshade’s voice threaded itself through Iwaizumi’s head. It was so quiet, so uncharacteristic of him that it chilled Iwaizumi to the bone. Iwaizumi hushed him, placing a single finger over his lips.

“I need you not to speak while I look you over. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I don’t want you accidentally putting pressure on anything, just breathe.” Iwaizumi ordered, and Nightshade nodded slowly. Iwaizumi began his work, unbuttoning Nightshade’s shirt with deft fingers. With each button that came undone, Iwaizumi was relieved to find no bleeding near the heart. It was about three buttons later that any hope he had harbored ebbed away. It was bad. It was really, really fucking bad.

Iwaizumi ran his finger around the edge of the wound. It appeared to be about six inches long and several inches deep. Whoever had stabbed Nightshade had absolutely no intention of him surviving. It made Iwaizumi see red. Blood oozed from the wound, sticky and metallic pooling in the back of his shirt. Iwaizumi prayed to any god that may listen that it hadn’t hit a kidney.

“Iwa-chan, am I gonna be okay?” Nightshade whispered again. Iwaizumi felt tears prick behind his eyes. He didn’t know, he didn’t know, he didn’t know. Lacerations this deep were difficult enough to deal with in a hospital, where everything was clean and there were resources. Here, the risk of infection was high, and there was no way to tell if Nightshade’s organs were intact. Even worse, there was nothing he could give him for the pain. Iwaizumi thought on the issue. Maybe he couldn’t take the pain away, but he could distract him.

“Kingcup!” Iwaizumi shouted; the man appeared in an instant. “I need a few things if he’s gonna make it. I need whatever your strongest drink is, mandrake from his garden, any drugs of literally any kind, a needle, and thread. _As fast as you can._ ” Iwaizumi commanded before pressing on the wound with the palm of his hand. Nightshade convulsed with the pressure, but Iwaizumi kept his hands on the spot, hating the way Nightshade’s blood coated his fingers.

“You were supposed to be safe.” Iwaizumi muttered. At this point, keeping Nightshade conscious was the primary goal.

“I am safe.” Nightshade said, slurring his words, “I have Iwa-chan to take care of me.” Iwaizumi wished he could smack Nightshade for saying it.

“I kept your plants alive, but you can’t expect me to do it forever. You have to make it so you can take care of them. You have to.” As Iwaizumi said it, blood gushed from the wound, Nightshade’s head lolling off to the side.

“Nightshade.” Iwaizumi said, voice stern, “ _Nightshade!_ ”

“I don’t want to die without…” Nightshade’s eyes squeezed shut against the pain, “Without anyone knowing my name.” He whispered. Iwaizumi’s heart faltered. _Hurry the fuck up Kingcup._ He begged internally.

“Shut up, dumbass. You’re not going to die. You’re going to be fine, and I’ll beat you at chess, and I’ll get your name the right way.” Iwaizumi ranted, careful to keep the pressure even over the wound.

“Iwa-chan, I need someone to know. I can’t—” Nightshade’s eyelids drooped, and Iwaizumi felt a tear slip from the corner of his eye.

“Tell me, Nightshade. Tell me your name.” Iwaizumi knew his voice was shaking. He knew he’d let fear layer over it, and he knew it couldn’t possibly be comforting. Nightshade whispered something, but Iwaizumi couldn’t hear it. “What was that? Tell me again.” Iwaizumi said, voice frantic. There was no response, just the sound of raspy breaths. "Damn it. _Damn it._ Say something!"

Nightshade’s hand reached up to tug at Iwaizumi’s shirt, Iwaizumi leaned down.

“It’s Oikawa. That’s my name.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question for you guys: Would you prefer longer updates or shorter updates or do you like the current length? I personally prefer updates on the longer side, so I just thought I'd ask :)


	6. Chapter Six: Signs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi looks for the good signs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear lovely friends. Last time, I asked if you guys would like to see longer or shorter updates, and for the most part the answer was longer. This chapter is (almost exactly) twice as long as the last. Please let me know if you like the length or would still like to see them a bit longer. As always, thank you for reading I adore you all, and I hope you like this chapter!

Kingcup burst through the door moments later, arms full of what looked like every item in the mansion, and clutched between his fists were two mandrake flowers, root to stem. Iwaizumi jerked his head to beckon him, careful not to change the pressure on the wound. One look at Iwaizumi and Kingcup was opening his mouth.

“That bad, huh? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kingcup joked, but the haunting look in his eyes told a different story. Iwaizumi just nodded grimly, unsure of how to say that the look of shock on his face had less to do with the wound and everything to do with the information that could get him killed.

“Let me see what you have.” Iwaizumi barked, irate at the fact that it had taken him so long to get back. Kingcup dumped the bounty next to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi scanned the pile, hope draining away with every useless item he found. Sure, ibuprofen would be useful _after_ the imminent threat of dying had passed, but it was nowhere near strong enough. He eyed a bottle of Xanax, in no position to question where it came from. He assumed it would be useful if Nightshade started to panic, but Iwaizumi was afraid that taking it now could cause his heartrate to slow more than it already had. Iwaizumi turned to the bright orange first aid kid, perhaps all hope was not lost yet. A brief look inside had Iwaizumi almost certain he’d have to use the mandrake. At last, his eyes shot to the purple flowers.

 _Mandrake_ Nightshade’s voice said inside his head _A member of the nightshade family. Known for producing hallucinations and a narcotic effect, historically used as anesthesia, but has since been banned since severe poisonings lead to death._

Iwaizumi shut his eyes. It would work. The problem was, he didn’t know exactly how much classified as a severe poisoning, and the one man that knew was nearly six feet under. Iwaizumi separated the root from the stem. If he remembered correctly, in most cases the root contained the most potent toxins. He split the root with his fingernail, wiping in on the towel that Kingcup had brought up with him. The _last_ thing they needed was Iwaizumi hallucinating while performing a backwoods surgery. Iwaizumi reached two fingers out to rest against Nightshade’s neck. His shoulders relaxed when he felt it there, drumming a weak rhythm.

“It’s about to get ugly.” Iwaizumi said, not sparing a glance for Kingcup, “You need to leave. Let everyone know I’m doing everything I can.” He spoke, listening as Kingcup vacated the room. Iwaizumi turned his unbridled attention to Nightshade.

“Nightshade.” Iwaizumi said, repeating it until Nightshade’s eyes opened to slits.

“Iwa-chan!” Nightshade whispered back.

“I need you to swallow something for me, and it might taste pretty bad, but it’s going to help.” Iwaizumi explained, sparing the detail in which Iwaizumi was effectively poisoning him. Nightshade just looked up at him, giving the tiniest nod and opening his mouth.

“If you wanted me to _swallow_ —” Nightshade began, and Iwaizumi would have knocked his lights out if it wouldn’t literally kill him.

“You really are shitty, you know that?” Iwaizumi said, pouring the most expensive vodka he’d ever seen into a cup. He tipped it into Nightshade’s mouth, cringing as he struggled to swallow it.

“Is that my nice vodka?” Nightshade rasped, sounding slightly pissed. _That’s a good sign._ Iwaizumi thought, but ignored the incredible idiot. He stuffed the root into his palm, placing it over Nightshade’s mouth. He opened it without warning and then moved to hold his mouth closed. Nightshade fought against the taste, trying more than once to spit it out, only to be blocked by Iwaizumi’s dutiful hand. At last, he swallowed, and Iwaizumi got to work on the real issue.

Iwaizumi removed his hand from the wound for a moment, taking in the grisly scene. Whatever had been used had also not exactly been intended for cutting. The edges were ragged, which made it a hell of a lot harder to stitch up properly. He internally apologized to Nightshade for the scar he would certainly have, and a fucking nasty one at that. He didn’t know if the alcohol or the mandrake had taken effect yet, but they were out of time. Either Nightshade suffered through it, or he died. It was that simple and complex all at once. Iwaizumi dismissed the possibility of Nightshade hating him for life, as long as he had one left to live, Iwaizumi would be content. He poured more vodka into the cup, soaking the edge of a washcloth in it before starting to clean the area.

Iwaizumi found about a dozen smaller cuts around the area, but they were shallow. Nevertheless, Nightshade still hissed when the vodka made contact with him, and Iwaizumi knew all bets were off for this being painless. Iwaizumi’s gaze fell on the remaining washcloth. With his remaining hand, he rolled it into a ball and stuffed it into Nightshade’s mouth. Nightshade would thank him later for saving his self-described million-dollar smile. Iwaizumi sucked in a breath.

“I am so sorry.” Iwaizumi whispered, and Nightshade’s eyes widened. _That is a good sign._ Iwaizumi repeated to himself, fighting to control the panic in his chest. Iwaizumi soaked the second rag in the vodka, wringing it out once before he started cleaning the wound. He knew Nightshade’s muffled screams would stick with him until kingdom come, but he continued.

Soak. Wring. Wipe. Soak. Wring. Wipe.

Slowly, the area became clear enough for Iwaizumi to begin the real work. The bleeding had slowed. _That is not a good sign._ Iwaizumi thought, wondering just _how close_ Nightshade was to bleeding out. He’d been bleeding the whole drive back from wherever the fuck, and he’d been bleeding here for nearly half an hour. Iwaizumi pulled the needle from the vodka, along with the string, threading it with ease, nevermind how his hands shook. Iwaizumi spared a glance at Nightshade, whose chest was heaving. _That is not a good sign._ Iwaizumi pulled the cloth from his mouth, and Nightshade caught his wrist in a heartbreakingly weak grip.

“Please,” Nightshade whispered between them, “don’t go.” Iwaizumi’s brows knitted together.

“I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.” Iwaizumi replied, shaking off Nightshade’s grip, turning his focus back to the weeping wound. Iwaizumi pressed the needle to the skin, cringing at the little pop it made as it pushed through layers of skin. Nightshade didn’t flinch, and Iwaizumi breathed a sigh of relief. He was either sufficiently drunk or sufficiently poisoned. Iwaizumi didn’t care which. Iwaizumi began working, moving the thread over and through, over and through, over and through. Nightshade began to babble.

“I know I messed up.” He slurred out, tongue flopping over the words.

“You didn’t mess up anything.” Iwaizumi replied, indulging the conversation.

“I shouldn’t have told him; I should have known better.” He continued.

“It’s okay, you can tell me anything.” Iwaizumi responded.

“The night we went to the ballet, I knew it was over. But you stayed then, so please stay now.” Nightshade murmured. Iwaizumi sent a glance to Nightshade, but he was staring up at the ceiling, having a conversation with someone Iwaizumi couldn’t see.

“ _No!_ ” Nightshade screamed, back arching off the floor. Iwaizumi swore as the needle jerked from his grip. Just a few more. Iwaizumi thought. Just a few more, and he’ll be okay. Tears were streaming down Nightshade’s face. “He’s gone! _He’s gone!_ ” Nightshade sobbed.

“I’m right here. I’m right here.” Iwaizumi soothed, sparing a moment to run his fingers down Nightshade’s arm.

“Makki! He’s _gone._ ” Nightshade cried out, fist banging against the floor. Nightshade started to twist away from Iwaizumi, and Iwaizumi began to panic. Iwaizumi knew that if the stitches tore, he’d be out of luck and out of time, a dollar short and a day late.

“Nightshade.” Iwaizumi said forcing as much authority into his voice as he could muster. Nightshade continued to move. “ _Nightshade._ ” Iwaizumi yelled. This only seemed to make it worse. Iwaizumi dipped onto his elbows, bracing one hand on Nightshade’s hip, trying to keep the stitches-destroying motion to a minimum.

“Oikawa.” He whispered, “It’s okay, it’s me, Iwaizumi, and I’m trying to help you right now, but I can’t help you if you keep moving.” Iwaizumi said, using the tone he used on the youngest of his patients. Nightshade went stock still.

“Iwa-chan?” Nightshade said. Iwaizumi sighed.

“Iwa-chan.” He replied. Nightshade stilled enough for Iwaizumi to continue his painstaking work, and when he tied off the string, he felt like he’d worked a small miracle.

“I’m all done now.” He spoke slowly, softly. “I’m going to carry you to your bed, and you’re going to get a super good rest, and then I’ll make sure someone takes good care of you! Sound good, budd—” Iwaizumi covered with a cough, “Sound good, Nightshade?” Nightshade looked up at him, brown eyes wide open and pupils absolutely blown, and nodded. Iwaizumi slipped one hand under his shoulders and the other under his hips, careful to keep Nightshade’s midsection from moving.

He placed Nightshade on the bed, wrapping him in a blanket, making sure to tuck the sides under him before wrapping a second around his arms. The less Nightshade moved, the better. He didn’t know when the mandrake would wear off, but he was sure the alcohol must be nearly out of his system.

“Iwa-chan?” Nightshade’s said, barely audible in the silent room, “Please, don’t go.” He continued, iterating the words from before in a dull echo. Iwaizumi stood still.

“I’m not going anywhere, just right down the hall, if you need me, I promise I’ll be right there.” Iwaizumi said, resting a hand on Oikawa’s forehead. No burning. _That is a good sign._ Iwaizumi told himself for the four billionth time that night.

“No,” Nightshade whined, trying to wriggle his arms free. Iwaizumi moved to hold them in place. “Just stay here. Please.” Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes, looking over Nightshade’s wrapped body. On the one hand, Iwaizumi wasn’t sure Nightshade could be trusted to not tear his stitches. On the other hand, he really didn’t know if staying with him was a good idea. On the exhausted hand, he would love to sleep in Nightshade’s nice ass bed. On the horny and unhelpful hand, he would love to sleep with Nightshade’s nice ass.

Well. It was 3-1, and, really, if you think about it, there’s no arguing with that logic.

Iwaizumi walked to the other side of the bed, moving to sit atop it, watchful eyes on Nightshade. He watched as Nightshade’s eyes slid shut, nearly nodding off himself when Nightshade spoke.

“You gave me mandrake.” Nightshade said, and Iwaizumi felt his blood run cold.

“I did.” Iwaizumi replied, muscles tensing in case he needed to make a speedy exit.

“That was smart.” Nightshade said, going still again. “You saved my life.” Iwaizumi nodded before realizing that Nightshade couldn’t see it.

“I just stitched you up.” Iwaizumi replied. Nightshade opened his eyes. Fixing Iwaizumi with a look of pure disbelief.

“True or False: I’d be dead if you hadn’t _just stitched me up_?” Nightshade asked. Iwaizumi hesitated.

“True.” He spoke.

“Then you saved my life.” Nightshade said simply, closing his eyes.

“Does it hurt?” Iwaizumi asked, teeth worrying over his bottom lip.

“Like a bitch.” Nightshade replied.

“I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi said, wishing there was more he could say. He was sorry it hurt, but, in a sense, he wasn’t sorry at all. It was either this or Nightshade being dead. And Iwaizumi knew which he preferred.

“Some things hurt worse.” Was the last thing Nightshade said. Iwaizumi didn’t remember falling asleep, he only remembered running a hand through Nightshade’s hair. Indulging the idea just once couldn’t hurt. Or so he had decided.

Iwaizumi woke to the sound of shuffling outside. Nightshade slept soundly next to him, and Iwaizumi rose to open the door. He found Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Kingcup, and Kenma staring at him, bags under their eyes.

“Have you guys been here all night?” Iwaizumi asked. Four heads nodded. Matsukawa was the first to speak.

“How is he?” He asked. Iwaizumi shut the door softly, attempting to keep any and all noise from a very tired Nightshade.

“He’s alive. I cleaned the wound and stitched him up. He’s asleep now. I would advise against disturbing him.” Iwaizumi said. Again, the heads nodded. Kenma was giving him a side-eye. Though you wouldn’t guess by looking at the half-digital thing, he was perceptive, disturbingly so. The look promised another threatening conversation, and Iwaizumi shivered.

“Play nice, Kenma. He just saved Nightshade.” Kingcup said. Kenma rolled his eyes.

“I want my Xanax back either way.” Kenma said, and Iwaizumi bit back a laugh. He didn’t spend long wondering exactly why Kenma took Xanax, enforcing his philosophy of not meddling in other people’s shit.

“You’ll get it back, I promise.” Iwaizumi said. The four of them chatted idly for a while before Iwaizumi decided that Nightshade was due for another checkup. Excusing himself, he padded back into the room, plucking Kenma’s bottle of Xanax off the floor. When he rose, he found Nightshade’s eyes trained on him.

“Good morning.” Iwaizumi offered, unsure of what to say. Nightshade’s face split into a yawn, and Iwaizumi wiped the silly smile off his face.

“Don’t tell me you took advantage of me.” Nightshade admonished. Iwaizumi considered rolling him off the bed, injuries be damned. Iwaizumi chose to flip him off instead, skirting the pool of dried blood.

“How do you feel?” Iwaizumi asked pressing his hand against Nightshade’s forehead. It was a little warm, but nothing dangerous. Nightshade thought over the question for a moment.

“Imagine you’re a piece of paper, and someone ran you through a shredder, and then taped you back together. That’s how I feel.” He said simply, and Iwaizumi let loose a laugh. All things considered, it was a pretty good analogy.

“I could offer you some ibuprofen, but that’s about it.” Iwaizumi said, and Nightshade looked at him demurely.

“I think I’ll pass. I feel as though this is above the caliber that ibuprofen operates at.” Nightshade said. _Well, he’s not wrong._ Iwaizumi thought.

“Can I take a look?” Iwaizumi said, and Nightshade blushed. Iwaizumi tried to tear his eyes away from the sight, but it was just a little bit too tempting. Instead, he moved closer, carefully separating the blankets from Nightshade’s body. The wound had leaked a bit, but looked much better than it had twelve hours ago. Iwaizumi touched the edges, they were red, but they weren’t hot. _That is a good sign._

Iwaizumi braced a hand against Nightshade’s stomach and Nightshade flinched. Iwaizumi turned to Nightshade, eyes wide, mind jumping between internal bleeding and sepsis.

“Does that hurt? Rate it on a scale of one to ten. What if I press here?” Iwaizumi interrogated moving his hand a few inches lower. Nightshade didn’t respond and Iwaizumi looked at his face, only to find it a truly alarming shade of red.

“N-no that doesn’t hurt.” Nightshade murmured looking anywhere _but_ at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi could feel the tips of his ears reddening and he turned back to the stitches. They needed to be cleaned, but overall Iwaizumi was rather impressed with his handiwork.

“Alright, I’m going to clean it, and that will almost definitely hurt.” Iwaizumi said, and Nightshade’s face dropped into a pout. Iwaizumi opened the first aid kit, finding the cotton balls he hadn’t used last night. He’d figured that they wouldn’t be of much use if they just got soaked through with blood. Iwaizumi slotted one against the mouth of the bottle before tipping it. Nightshade opened his mouth to speak but Iwaizumi cut him off.

“Yes, this is your good vodka. No, there is not another option.” Iwaizumi said, and Nightshade’s mouth shut with a _clack_ “Okay, I’m going to start now, you can hold on to me if you need.” With that, he pressed the cotton ball against the wound and Nightshade sucked in a gasp, hand finding Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi, to his credit, did try to move quickly, but he knew it was more important that he be thorough. Nightshade cursed in fifty thousand different ways, but held still. Iwaizumi thanked him for it. He knew it couldn’t be comfortable, but it was necessary. When he was done, he tossed the cotton balls in the trash and was about to launch into a lecture about how to keep the wound clean and safe when Nightshade spoke instead.

“Thank you.” Nightshade said, and Iwaizumi nodded.

“It’s nothing, really.” Iwaizumi said, averting his eyes.

“Why do it? Why save me?” Nightshade asked, and Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say.

“No one deserves to die like that. Not even people with shitty personalities.” Iwaizumi said.

“But—” Nightshade started.

“Not done.” Iwaizumi interjected, cutting him off. “You have a shitty personality, but you’re also…not shitty…sometimes.” He continued, aware of how awkward he sounded.

“Wow, an absolutely _glowing_ review.” Nightshade snarked, and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“Shut up.”

Iwaizumi cleaned after that. He could feel Nightshade’s eyes on his back, but he’d rather scrub Nightshade’s blood off the floor a thousand times before letting Nightshade do it himself. He lectured while he did it. Making sure that Nightshade knew that he was not permitted to leave the bed for the next week. Nightshade bitched and moaned, but had eventually accepted that making a full recovery meant staying still for a bit.

Iwaizumi became something of his keeper. He spent the majority of his day with Nightshade, bringing the chessboard and making sure to water the plants. He continued clipping the Lilly of the Valley, and Nightshade made sure to fill his head with plenty of plant facts, insisting that Iwaizumi had probably been hoping he wouldn’t make it so that he was off the hook for his botany crash course. Iwaizumi didn’t find the jokes funny, but he smiled at Nightshade nonetheless.

Four days into the recovery, Nightshade was in a particularly jovial mood, and it made Iwaizumi’s skin crawl. Because when Nightshade was like this, he became particularly touchy. Not that Nightshade had ever exactly kept his hands to himself, but it just seemed to multiply with his mood. Every time Iwaizumi was within reach there was a hand on his wrist, or tangled in the back of his shirt, demanding some thing or another. Several times, Nightshade would cling on to him and refuse to let go. Around five o’clock Iwaizumi reached a sort of breaking point. His curiosity had finally gotten the best of him.

Iwaizumi crossed the room, pretending to turn off the lamp, and, like clockwork, there was a hand on his sleeve.

“You keep doing that.” Iwaizumi commented. Nightshade just raised an eyebrow.

“Doing what?” He said, voice so _innocent_ that Iwaizumi wanted to laugh. Iwaizumi shook his arm for emphasis.

“Being clingy.” Iwaizumi stated, and watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Nightshade’s cheeks took on a scarlet hue. As quickly as it appeared, it vanished, and a much more devious look replaced it. Iwaizumi was glued to the spot.

“Am I not allowed to _touch_ , Iwa-chan?” Nightshade said, voice positively slithering over the words. Iwaizumi was overtaken by two emotions. The first was that he was so utterly fucked. The second was his immediate and pressing need to regain some semblance of control over the situation. Without thinking he shot out a hand to grip Nightshade’s thigh. He flinched under the pressure, face continuing to heat up.

The two looked at each other, releasing their respective grip on the other. Understanding passed between them.

As fucked as Iwaizumi found himself, the real trouble began when Nightshade’s official bedrest ended. The wound was still nowhere close to healed, but, naturally, Nightshade refused to stay still a moment longer. It goes without saying that the second Iwaizumi cleared him to stand up he was already hauling his legs over the side of the bed.

“Geez, cool it, would you?” Iwaizumi said bracing a hand on Nightshade’s shoulder. “You’re still healing.” Iwaizumi chided.

“Are you my _mom_ , Iwa-chan?” Nightshade replied, and Iwaizumi sent him a glare that could have withered all the plants in the garden.

“Try to stand up.” He instructed, scanning Nightshade’s face for any signs of discomfort. Nightshade set his feet on the ground, but the second he lurched forward his face contorted, and Iwaizumi was at his side in a second. Iwaizumi braced an arm around Nightshade’s shoulders, and stood slowly. Nightshade hissed against the pain, but it was a part of the healing. The longer he spent in bed, the higher the risk of improper healing climbed. Nightshade seemed to relax a little, taking a tentative step forward. _That is a good sign._ Iwaizumi soothed himself. They walked around the room for about ten minutes before Nightshade stumbled forward.

“Woah there.” Iwaizumi said, voice softening, “Let’s get you back to bed.” Nightshade accepted the offer, moving a protective hand to his side. Iwaizumi swatted it away. “You really shouldn’t touch it. We’ve got to clean it now.” Nightshade shrunk away from the words. By and large Nightshade’s least favorite part was the cleaning.

A preemptive hand grasped Iwaizumi’s shoulder as he began the process of wiping away whatever nastiness had collected on the wound over the past few hours. Iwaizumi apologized each time, and each time Nightshade made fun of him for it. After all, as far as Nightshade was concerned, he still felt bad about showing up unannounced and scaring Iwaizumi half to death. The process of getting Nightshade up and moving continued over the next week, making it a little further each time.

“Iwa-chan, do you think I’ll still be pretty when it heals?” Nightshade asked on the fifth day of walking around the room. _Yes._ Iwaizumi thought, but opted for a more characteristic roll of the eyes.

“No. You’ll be so disfigured that no one will ever want you.” He said, sparing a light squeeze to Nightshade’s shoulder.

“So, mean! Always so mean!” Nightshade admonished, “But that’s okay, I know _someone_ would still want me.” Iwaizumi stopped processing the world around him.

“I know you’re not talking about _me,_ Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi spoke before he could correct himself. He’d decided the moment that Nightshade had told him his real name that he wouldn’t use it. Iwaizumi wasn’t sure if Nightshade even remembered telling him in the first place. Well, now he was fucked beyond all measure, beyond all things, beyond all space and time. Nightshade stopped moving.

“ _What?_ ” Nightshade hissed, fire burning in his eyes. Iwaizumi remained silent, wishing for a quick and painless death. “How do you know?” Nightshade demanded, voice rising. Inwardly, Iwaizumi cringed for his shoddy stitches. Iwaizumi inhaled deeply, hoping this breath wouldn’t be his last.

“You told me.” Iwaizumi said, gaze fixed on the floor. “The night you got stabbed. You said you didn’t want—” Iwaizumi cut himself off. That conversation had been one of the worst of his life, and he was not eager to repeat it.

“I did _what_?” Nightshade’s eyes had gone wide in panic, and his breaths came too quickly. Nightshade’s eyes darted around the room, looking for something. Nightshade limped from Iwaizumi’s side, taking a seat on the bed.

“N-not your full name.” Iwaizumi added, wondering if that would help. Iwaizumi shut his eyes tight, wondering if Kingcup would throw open the doors and kill him any moment now. Instead, he was greeted with the sound of sniffling. Iwaizumi’s gaze shot to Nightshade, crying on the bed.

“Iwa-chan, I—” Nightshade started, before biting down on his knuckles. Iwaizumi moved to kneel in front of him. Iwaizumi was confused beyond measure, but if he never saw Nightshade crying again, it would be too soon. “I’m so sorry.” Nightshade said between little gasps. Nothing he was saying was working to remedy the unanswered questions swirling around Iwaizumi’s mind. Iwaizumi moved to place his hands atop Nightshade’s knees.

“Explain it to me, explain what’s wrong.” Iwaizumi pleaded, adopting his designated patient voice once more. “Do you remember when I told you I was trying?” Nightshade asked. Iwaizumi nodded. “It’s a long process, but it was done. I was going to tell you when I got back I—”

“Tell me what.” Iwaizumi asked, stroking idle circles with his fingertips.

“You were free to go. You could have left.” Nightshade whispered. Iwaizumi did not like the use of past tense. “But now…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I told you.” Nightshade murmured through nearly closed lips. Iwaizumi drew a deep breath.

“It’s okay, Oikawa.” He spoke. Oikawa’s eyes nearly popped out of his head at the casual use of his name.

“How can you _say_ that? You left so much, and I _took that from you._ ” Oikawa countered, shoving his head into his hands. It was a valid question, Iwaizumi supposed. He didn’t know how to explain everything that had changed over the past two weeks, really since Oikawa had popped into his room with his dumb vanity and his chessboard.

“I can say it because I did have a life, and a job, and an apartment, and all those other things, but I…but there’s a lot you have left to learn about what that was like. I’m new to Tokyo, did you know that?” Iwaizumi said softly, watching as Oikawa slowly shook his head, “And even though I had all those pieces that fit together to make a life, I never really felt _alive_.” Iwaizumi finished, letting the statement stand unfinished. He figured Oikawa didn’t need to know that most all of it came down to him at the end of the day. Oikawa shook his head again.

“I’m sorry. For all of it.” Oikawa said.

“Don’t be.” Iwaizumi replied, and his voice was sure and steady. There were a lot of things he had taken from him, but then there was…Oikawa. It was something so new and different and fascinating, and Iwaizumi was at a complete loss for how to deal with it.

“A few things, then.” Oikawa began, “One, I feel like this is a given, but never say my name when anyone else is around, you’ll probably almost certainly die.” Iwaizumi nodded, expecting that much, “Two, I’ll have it arranged that you get somewhere proper to stay, somewhere close in case I require your... _doctorly wiles_.” Oikawa stuck a half-assed smirk onto the end of the statement, and Iwaizumi’s mouth twitched into a smile, “Third, you’ll be required to join us for dinner. It’s not an official rule or anything, but Kingcup told me he likes your company.” Iwaizumi grinned at that. _Friends._ How long had it been since he’d made real friends? Iwaizumi wondered. Perhaps since he’d left his undergraduate program? Longer? Iwaizumi shook his head to clear the rather dreary thought.

“As long as the food is good, I won’t complain.” Iwaizumi joked, but Oikawa’s face paled.

“Oh my god.” Oikawa started, “What have they been eating?” Iwaizumi wanted to laugh, save for the very real fear on Oikawa’s face. The way that Oikawa cared for his people hit Iwaizumi like a truck. He wondered if Oikawa cared for him that way, hoped he did.

“They’ve been doing fine, I’m pretty sure Hanamaki and Matsukawa have been taking care of everyone.” Iwaizumi explained, moving to sit next to Oikawa on the bed.

“How domestic!” Oikawa chattered, and Iwaizumi didn’t try to discern the meaning. They fell into a comfortable silence, only interrupted when Iwaizumi felt the weight of Oikawa’s head drop onto his shoulder. He was about to ask what in the hell he was doing when he noticed the deep and regulated rise and fall of Oikawa’s chest. _Dumbass._ Iwaizumi thought fondly. _Tired himself out._ Iwaizumi stayed still for nearly two hours, ignoring the way his arm went completely numb. When Oikawa woke, turning a lovely shade of pink, Iwaizumi just helped him into the bed. _That is a good sign._ Iwaizumi smiled at the thought. It definitely was.

The next day, Oikawa told him that he would be staying two doors down, and that his things had already been moved. Oikawa also commented on his “absolutely atrocious wardrobe” and Iwaizumi wasted no time in telling him that other than the clothes he’d been kidnapped in, he’d just been wearing whatever Hanamaki brought by. Oikawa laughed at that, explaining that the clothes almost definitely belonged to Matsukawa and that would explain the horrifying fashion. It was also on this day that Oikawa insisted that he and Iwaizumi attend dinner. Iwaizumi wished he had refused.

When Oikawa told him about dinner, he had pictured a large dining hall brimming with enough criminals to fill the ridiculous mansion. He was right about one thing. The dining hall was huge, lit with chandeliers and draped in tapestries, but the table was actually rather small, large enough for ten or so. He recognized Hanamaki, Matsukawa, Kingcup, and Kenma, and then, of course there was Oikawa and himself. The remaining four chairs were filled by a most interesting cast of characters. There was a man with wild black and white hair chattering away at a slender man with dark hair. Iwaizumi’s eyes lingered on the man’s face because _holy mother of god, was he beautiful._ Nightshade tapped him on the shoulder.

“Don’t go getting any ideas, he’s absolutely over the moon for Bokuto.” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi knew it was true. Where Iwaizumi probably could not have basked in the megawatt presence of Bokuto for longer than thirty seconds, the other man just looked at him with a fond little smile, and eyes filled to the brim with affection. Iwaizumi was beginning to wonder a few things, namely if everyone here was involved in something or other with someone else, and how he had ended up having dinner with the gayest mafia in all of Japan. The remaining two were mostly keeping to themselves. One of them looked scary, sporting biceps that could crush a watermelon and a blonde buzzcut. The other looked like he could fit in a shoe, all sandy brown hair and fair skin. What a misconception that had been. Oikawa cleared his throat, and all hell broke loose.

A chorus of “Nightshade!” and “Finally!” washed over Iwaizumi. Oikawa just smiled, giving a little princess wave that made Iwaizumi snort. Kingcup gave Iwaizumi the designated bro nod. It was only Kenma who stayed quiet, tapping away at his device amidst the chaos. As Iwaizumi approached the table, he noticed that he would be sitting directly to Oikawa’s right at the head of the table. It made him a bit nervous, even more so as he watched the group stand out of their seats as they approached. When Oikawa and Iwaizumi were situated behind their respective chairs, Oikawa nodded. Ten chairs scuffed against marble flooring as they all took their seats again.

“Welcome back!” Bokuto shouted and the man next to him smiled in the same sweet way.

“Thank you, Bokuto.” Oikawa smiled, pulling the bowl of rice toward him. He scooped a small amount, as Iwaizumi had directed, onto the plate before passing it over. Iwaizumi was unsure of the etiquette in this situation, so he just mimicked what Oikawa had done, serving himself and passing. He supposed he had overthought it a bit. When everyone had been served, Oikawa began eating, and the rest followed suit.

“Ah, I almost forgot!” Oikawa said, gesturing at Iwaizumi who currently had a mouthful of rice and was looking far from his best. “This is our guest, he’ll be staying with us until further notice. You are to treat him with respect, and keep any and all weaponry away from his precious face.” Iwaizumi choked on his rice, setting Kingcup into a fit of hyena-laughs. When his windpipe was clear of carbs, he spoke.

“I don’t want to hear a damn thing about how _precious_ my face is.” Iwaizumi grumbled, and Kingcup banged a fist on the table, shaking with laughter. The rest of the group looked tense, expectant.

“I just can’t help it if your face is precious, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi glared at him. So much for making a good first impression. He thought.

“Go ahead, introduce yourselves.” Kenma spoke first.

“He already knows me.” Kenma complained, and Oikawa rolled his eyes.

“Just spare him a few words, if you would.” Oikawa’s voice was sweet as honey as the words dripped from his mouth, but it made Iwaizumi’s muscles tense.

“Kozume Kenma. Yew. Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate, fifth in command.” Kenma spat, clicking away at his screen the entire time. Iwaizumi nodded and looked to Kingcup.

“Kuroo Tetsurou, but you, lucky bastard, get to call me Kingcup. Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate. Sixth in command, but first with the ladies, am I right?” The collective shaking of heads suggested that he was _not._ Oikawa just cleared his throat, smile perched on his face, and nodded to Hanamaki.

“Hanamaki Takahiro, I go by Hemlock. Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate, third in command.” Hanamaki blushed as he said his position, and Iwaizumi watched as Matsukawa gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. _Gayest mafia in Tokyo._ Iwaizumi’s brain offered unhelpfully. Maybe, if he told them he was straight, they’d let him go. After all, it was only _half_ a lie, but he was pretty sure Oikawa had figured out one thing or another by now.

“Matsukawa Issei if you’re hot, Foxglove if you’re not.” Iwaizumi’s eyes shot open, and Oikawa threw his head back in a laugh. Hanamaki cuffed him over the ear.

“Never gets old.” Oikawa whispered beside him. Matsukawa continued.

“Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate, fourth in command.” He finished, nodding to Bokuto.

“Bokuto Koutarou!” Bokuto yelled, echoing off the walls, “My codename is Larkspur, but I don’t really know people are talking to me when they use it, so you can just call me Bokuto. I’m Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate, and I’m seventh in command! And now you get to hear all about Akaashi!” Iwaizumi couldn’t help but smile at Bokuto’s enthusiasm. The man was downright contagious.

“Thank you, Bokuto-san. My name is Akaashi Keiji, Windflower, Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate. Eighth in command.” Akaashi was quiet, and Iwaizumi found himself interested in the dynamic between the two.

“But first for me!” Bokuto added. Iwaizumi watched as Akaashi smiled before leaning his head on Bokuto’s shoulder. The final two were up, and Iwaizumi was excited to know more about the scary one.

“Kyoutani Kentarou. Wolfsbane. Call me whatever, I don’t give a flying—” Kyoutani started, but was immediately cut off as the shorter man smacked him across the face. Iwaizumi was starting to reevaluate who the scary one was. Kyoutani regarded the other with a blank stare before turning to look at Iwaizumi again. “Call me Wolfsbane. Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate. Ninth in command.” Kyoutani fixed the violent creature beside him with a look that begged him to swing again, instead the other just looked at Iwaizumi and began his introduction.

“Yahaba Shigeru. Hyacinth. Don’t call me anything. Don’t talk to me. Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate. Tenth in command.” Yahaba took a seat, and Iwaizumi gaped at him, tossing a look at Nightshade who just rolled his eyes before setting them on Iwaizumi.

“Nightshade, but _you_ can call me Belladonna.” Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa and hoped that no one could see the back of his neck as he felt it heating up. “Aoba Johsai. First in command.” Iwaizumi noted the distinct lack of Seijoh syndicate attached to it, but even more strange was the lack of a second in command. Iwaizumi didn’t have time to waste on the thought as Nightshade gestured for him to introduce himself.

“Iwaizumi. I’d tell you my first name, but I’ve got a running bet with _Belladonna_ over here.” Iwaizumi watched with no small amount of satisfaction as half the table laughed, “Um, recently kidnapped by Aoba Johsai, Seijoh syndicate, and that’s about it.” A few members of the table murmured greetings back at him, but by and large they seemed very interested in their food. Dinner was slightly awkward, but Kingcup had been clearly trying to remedy the situation, pulling Iwaizumi into what little conversation there was.

They had made it halfway back to Oikawa’s room when he had to stop and lean against the wall. Iwaizumi waited for a moment before deciding to simply scoop him up.

“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa protested, mouth gaping. Iwaizumi thought he looked like a trout.

“You were taking forever, now stop whining or someone will come out here.” Iwaizumi replied, leaning against the door to push it open. When Oikawa had been safely deposited in bed, Iwaizumi decided he was well overdue for a century or so of sleep. Oikawa’s hand stopped him.

“They liked you. I know it probably didn’t seem like it, but they did.” Oikawa said quickly, releasing Iwaizumi’s wrist.

“I expect a full rundown on them tomorrow.” Iwaizumi yawned, stretching his arms beyond his head and pretending not to notice as Oikawa’s gaze dropped to his abdomen. Oikawa just hummed.

“Goodnight, Iwa-chan.”

“Goodnight, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi ignored the disgruntled noise from the blanket heap, but he could tell Oikawa was smiling. Call it a sixth sense. Call it a good sign.


	7. Chapter Seven: The Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi defends his title and almost gets killed (again)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hello, hello everyone! I'm so glad to be back with another update, it appears as though you all liked the length of the last one, so I kept it consistent for this one! This chapter is the last laid back one for a while so buckle your seatbelts. Also, I hope you do not mind the additional 24 hours between updates, I struggle to write six thousand words in a sitting lmao, but I love and adore you all, I hope you like the chapter!!

Iwaizumi knew his room would be an upgrade, but he hadn’t expected anything near the caliber of what Oikawa had produced. It faced the garden from the opposite direction, and he could see his original room from the balcony. The floors were dark oak and polished to shine, and Iwaizumi’s possessions had been set up for him beforehand. Most importantly, however, was the king-sized bed. Iwaizumi had slept like an absolute dead man, and he hadn’t felt so well-rested in years. The room was decked out with leaves of Ivy that twined their way around the crown molding, winding down the corners of the room to greet a giant tapestry. Iwaizumi studied it for a moment before sucking in a gasp. He recognized the flower, recognized the name beneath it.

 _Duranta Erecta_. Iwaizumi mused. _Skyflower_. Iwaizumi crossed the room to the two plants that basked in the morning sun. Iwaizumi smiled at them, his little prized possessions. They were both doing handsomely, and the Lilly of the Valley had just started to produce tiny little buds. Iwaizumi was already counting down the days until they bloomed. He assumed it would be a week at least, two at most, and he couldn’t wait. It was then that the little device in his pocket vibrated. Iwaizumi sighed. He knew who was paging him, he didn’t even have to look. Iwaizumi crossed the room and headed to the lair of the egotistical beast down the hall.

“Good morning, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa chirped, perched on the bed and swinging his legs back and forth. Iwaizumi grumbled a greeting and reached for the bottle. Oikawa had become less and less pained by the daily cleanings, and Iwaizumi knew it meant the wound was closing, slowly but surely.

“Grumpy this morning?” Oikawa asked, sticking his lip out into a pout.

“The first thing I saw was your face. How do you _think_ I feel?” Iwaizumi shot back, reveling in the shock that crossed Oikawa’s delicate features.

“You must feel like the luckiest man alive!” Oikawa said, a smile blooming on his face. Iwaizumi ignored the nuisance that was his brain as is agreed with Oikawa. Useless things, those brains. Oikawa made haste with his shirt, opting to remove it completely, as opposed to lifting it like he usually did. Iwaizumi nearly passed out.

Oikawa’s back was _covered_ with tattoos. Iwaizumi didn’t know if the adrenaline or the blood had covered them the night of the stabbing, but they were very much _there_ and very much a distraction. Oikawa just turned a mischievous gaze on Iwaizumi.

“Do you like them?” Oikawa asked, that same creepy innocence leaking into his voice. Iwaizumi wanted to say no. Wanted to tell him that he looked like a menu after a kid colored on it, but instead his brain seemed to malfunction.

“What are they?” Iwaizumi said, taking a step closer, and before he knew it his hand was leaving his side.

“They’re plants, Iwa-chan, are you _that_ slow?” Oikawa said, but Iwaizumi noticed how he flexed the muscles in his back. _Going. To. Pass. Out._ Iwaizumi’s mind reminded him, so he did the sensible thing and flicked Oikawa’s ear.

“I know they’re plants, Shittykawa.” He grumbled, moving to trace the one in the middle of his back. And all at once, the answer dawned on him. _Nightshade._ He thought as he traced over it. He moved his hand to the second. _Hemlock._ The third. _Yew._ They were all there. Iwaizumi’s eyes fell upon a particularly familiar drawing, tucked up on Oikawa’s shoulder blade. _Lilly of the Valley._

“Are you just going to gawk at me all day, or are you going to help me, the poor, sick, withering-away-as-we-speak invalid?” Oikawa asked, adding a cough for dramatic effect, but Iwaizumi felt the way he leaned into the touch. It set him on fire. Iwaizumi retracted his hand, picking up the cotton ball.

“Why did you get them?” Iwaizumi asked, making quick work of the cleaning.

“It seemed fair. They chose to commit their lives to me, so I figured I’d commit right back.” Oikawa answered, garnering a nod of approval from Iwaizumi.

“Does everyone have the plants on their back?” Iwaizumi followed up, soaking another cotton ball. Oikawa swore as he pressed it against the wound, and Iwaizumi mumbled an apology.

“No. As far as Aoba Johsai related tattoos go, they’ve only got the dagger, a few of them have other tattoos though. Tetsurou has a tramp stamp.” That caught Iwaizumi’s attention and he had almost formed the words to ask what it was when Oikawa laughed and answered, “It’s Kenma’s name” Iwaizumi just blinked at him.

“ _How?_ ” Iwaizumi managed, and it only made Oikawa laugh harder, which, in turn, pulled at the stitches which ended up with Oikawa interspersing various curses with his giggles. Iwaizumi smiled; Oikawa looked lovely when he laughed.

“It’s pretty simple. There’s Kenma with Tetsurou, and there’s Kenma with everyone else.” Oikawa explained. Iwaizumi nodded. He wondered what that Kenma was like, because Kenma henceforth had exactly three personality traits. He liked his cat, he liked videogames, and he liked being left the fuck alone. Iwaizumi stewed on the concept for a while, but Oikawa’s voice interrupted him.

“Say, Iwa-chan. Have you been practicing your chess strategies, or are they still slightly below average for a caveman?” Oikawa teased, and Iwaizumi shoved at his knee.

“I’ve been kind of busy saving your excuse for a life, if you haven’t noticed.” Iwaizumi said right back, and Oikawa’s mouth snapped shut before a pliant smile settled on his face.

“Very well then, let’s play. The chessboard should be in your room, and you have a table now! My back always hurt after sitting on the floor for so long.” Oikawa lamented. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“Oh, poor baby.” Iwaizumi chided, expecting a quick-witted response. He received no such thing, and turned to look at Oikawa. He _really_ wished he hadn’t. Oikawa’s face was ruby red and his brown eyes were wide. Iwaizumi could feel his own cheeks turning red like some hellish osmosis was occurring, and he quickly turned away, pretending to be busy with the bottle. _Fucked._ Iwaizumi’s brain played on loop. _You, Iwaizumi Hajime, are fucked._ Iwaizumi turned to leave the room, gesturing for Oikawa to follow before he realized the poor bastard probably wouldn’t make it out the door without needing a breather. Iwaizumi hooked an arm around Oikawa’s waist, careful to not pay attention to how it felt, and headed into his room.

Fortunately, by the time they got there, Oikawa had stopped looking like an overripe tomato, and had started up his typical nonsensical chatter.

“—And then Makki said ‘That’s not Matsukawa, that’s Kenma in a wig!’” Oikawa laughed at his own story, that Iwaizumi had admittedly not been paying attention to, but he smiled nonetheless. It was hard, okay? To watch Oikawa laugh and _not_ feel like you just won a goddamn Nobel Prize in Physics. And that’s saying something because Iwaizumi failed physics. _Twice_. They fell into a comfortable silence as they played, until Iwaizumi spoke.

“What about Yahaba?” Iwaizumi asked, and Oikawa’s eyes turned suspicious.

“An excellent question. What exactly about him?” Oikawa asked, and Iwaizumi bit back a laugh. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Oikawa sounded downright jealous.

“He’s scary, and I want to know why he can look like…that, and be scary.” Iwaizumi continued. Oikawa’s eyes caught a spark, and Iwaizumi prepared himself for whatever god-tier bullshit he was about to hear come out of Oikawa’s mouth.

“Ah, Iwa-chan. They are not mutually exclusive. Speaking as God’s finest work, I can assure you it is fully possible to be both stunning and scar—”

“You’re not scary.” Iwaizumi cut him off, and Oikawa’s jaw might as well have hit the floor.

“You seemed plenty scared of me the first time we met!” Oikawa replied and Iwaizumi laughed.

“ _Knives_ are scary, _you_ are not.” Iwaizumi explained demurely. Oikawa sputtered for a moment.

“Everyone else is scared of me!” Oikawa eventually got out, and Iwaizumi shook his head.

“They really shouldn’t be. They probably just don’t know you well enough. You’re just a gardener with a god complex at the end of the day.” Iwaizumi finished. At that, Oikawa’s composure broke and he dissolved into a puddle of giggles before immediately decimating Iwaizumi’s pieces.

Oikawa insisted on giving Iwaizumi a “grand tour” of the mansion after that, but Iwaizumi told him there was no way in hell he was walking that far. Oikawa argued, and Iwaizumi told him if he could walk to the door and back without help, he’d let Oikawa take him on a tour. Oikawa made it exactly six steps before he sent a panicked look at Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi was at his side in a second, arm wrapped around his waist.

“Let’s get you back to your room.” Iwaizumi sighed, and Oikawa just nodded, cheeks flaming. With Oikawa safely returned to whatever it is he occupied his days with that didn’t involve Iwaizumi, Iwaizumi turned to leave.

“I’ll see you before dinner, Shittykawa.” He said in parting. Iwaizumi opened the door to find Kyoutani glaring at him. Iwaizumi just quirked an eyebrow.

“I heard you were good at arm wrestling.” Kyoutani murmured, and an easy smile crossed Iwaizumi’s face.

“You’ve come to the right place.”

Ten minutes later, Iwaizumi found himself surrounded by the eight nosy gang members, as he wrapped his hand around Kyoutani’s. Hell, even Kenma had braved the daylight to watch. A pang of guilt split his ribs as his thoughts turned to Oikawa. Iwaizumi knew he would have liked the be there. For a moment, he considered walking back up to Oikawa’s room and fetching him, but he also knew that Oikawa needed rest, and hauling him down here might do more harm than good.

“Ready?” Iwaizumi said, voice steady and sure, “You count it off.” Kyoutani wasted no time in counting down and the two of them started their little tournament.

Kyoutani was stronger than Oikawa, but not by much, a fact that absolutely bewildered Iwaizumi as the match went on. Kyoutani really did look like he could crush watermelons with his biceps, which led Iwaizumi to believe Kyoutani was taking it easy on him. Then again, Kyoutani didn’t exactly look like the type to just give up a fight. Iwaizumi pushed Kyoutani’s hand a few centimeters closer to the table, enjoying the look of shock on his face. Iwaizumi made a final push, and Kyoutani’s hand smacked into the table. The room was quiet before they erupted into bouts of cheering.

“ _Damn._ ” Matsukawa shouted, “Iwaizumi’s got an arm on him!” Hanamaki wasted to time in smacking him over the arm. Matsukawa just brushed a hand over the small of Hanamaki’s back before settling it on his waist for a moment. Matsukawa caught him looking and smirked, mouthing a quick _No homo_. Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. That had been _very_ homo. Very, extremely, unmistakably homo.

“You’re good.” Kyoutani said, but it sounded like the words had brought him near death. “I’m going to beat you one day.” Iwaizumi smiled back at him and nodded.

“I look forward to it.” Iwaizumi said, watching as Kyoutani crossed the room to stand near Yahaba who was struggling to wipe the satisfied smile off his face, but ultimately ran a comforting hand down the length of Kyoutani’s arm. _Very, extremely, unmistakably homo._ Iwaizumi’s brain parroted and he let out a little laugh.

“Iwaizumi!” Bokuto boomed from across the room, “Can I try?” Iwaizumi wanted to turn him down, because years of experience taught him what was to come. A proper tournament.

Nonetheless, Iwaizumi nodded and inclined his head to the chair across from him. Bokuto was there in a heartbeat, making a show of flexing his muscles. The group applauded, and Matsukawa made a snide comment about how good Akaashi must be getting it. Akaashi just threw Matsukawa a look of utter disdain before returning a smile to Bokuto.

Just as they were about to start, Iwaizumi caught Akaashi’s eye. He looked almost anxious, anticipating something that Iwaizumi couldn’t place. He let Bokuto count it off, but, truly, he wasn’t much of a match for Iwaizumi. He attacked it head on, using most of his energy in the first five seconds. Iwaizumi expected nothing less. He waited until he could feel Bokuto’s arm start to shake before pushing back, and ending with Bokuto’s hand on the table. The group cheered again, but Iwaizumi noticed the way that Bokuto’s composure seemed to wilt.

“Good game.” Iwaizumi offered, and Bokuto turned shiny eyes on him.

“I really thought I was gonna win.” Bokuto said, and Iwaizumi thought he was about to burst into tears. _Ah._ Iwaizumi thought. _Akaashi was worried about this._ Speak of the devil, Akaashi was already making his way toward Bokuto, a smile plastered on his face.

“I really thought you were too, Bokuto. I bet you can lift a lot!” Iwaizumi babbled and Bokuto turned excited eyes on him.

“You bet I can! I bet I could pick you up and not even feel it.” Bokuto declared, and Iwaizumi nodded.

“You probably can, but arm wrestling takes different muscles.” Iwaizumi bullshitted, “I bet if you keep training, you’ll beat me in no time.” Iwaizumi said, throwing a smile in for good measure.

“Did you hear that, Akaashi?” Bokuto said, smiling his trademark megawatt smile, “Iwaizumi thinks I can beat him in no time!”

“I’m sure you will, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi reassured, thanking Iwaizumi with his eyes. Iwaizumi nodded back, glad that Bokuto’s mood had been restored. Then, like clockwork, it happened.

“I just had the greatest idea!” Kuroo shouted; eight pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“If it came out of your brain, I doubt it’s all that great.” Kenma muttered, and Kuroo played at offense for a moment before continuing.

“Let’s have a tournament!” He finished, and the room responded rather enthusiastically.

Soon enough, there were six more chairs pulled up at the table, and Matsukawa had drawn out a makeshift bracket on a piece of paper.

“First match,” Matsukawa began, “Kenma vs. Akaashi! And Hanamaki vs. Kingcup!” Iwaizumi noticed the use of Kuroo’s codename. He guessed his sensitivity extended even to his superiors.

The match was over quickly enough, seeing as Kenma flopped his hand down onto the table as soon as Matsukawa called the start. Kuroo and Hanamaki on the other hand, were pretty well-matched and it had come down to a battle of endurance. Ultimately, Kuroo narrowly won and Hanamaki high-fived him after.

The tournament played out with Akaashi knocked out by Kuroo, and Kuroo knocked out by Kyoutani. Shortly thereafter, Kyoutani was knocked out by Bokuto, and Bokuto took out Matsukawa. The second to last match took place between Bokuto and Yahaba. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh at the pairing. Yahaba probably took up as much space as one of Bokuto’s legs, but he had a certain fire in his eyes that Iwaizumi did not particularly like. Iwaizumi had to catch his jaw as he watched Yahaba slam Bokuto’s hand into the table. _Well._ Iwaizumi thought. _Shit._

Yahaba pointed a single finger at Iwaizumi and spoke.

“You’re next.” Iwaizumi tried to fight the shiver that shot down his spine at the words. The little thing was utterly terrifying. Just as Iwaizumi had made his way to the table, a wheeze echoed around the room. Iwaizumi’s eyes shot to the door. Oikawa stood there, clutching his side, but a smile on his face.

“Lovely invite.” Oikawa said before doubling over. Iwaizumi jumped from his seat and darted across the room.

“ _Seriously._ ” Iwaizumi said, “You _seriously_ thought you could walk yourself down here. It’s too much!” He whispered at Oikawa who was looking at him with absolutely zero remorse.

“It’s not my fault you all decided to have fun without me.” Oikawa said back, giving him his best pout, which also happened to be a fake pout, and Iwaizumi didn’t know when he had started being able to tell the difference between them.

“I put you in bed to go to sleep, not lie awake and FOMO yourself to death.” Iwaizumi hissed, but propped an arm around Oikawa’s shoulders. It was easier to support him from the waist, but Iwaizumi wasn’t sure how well that would be received.

“Looks like I’m just in time for the prize fight.” Oikawa mused, and Iwaizumi wanted to drop him on the floor. Hanamaki had already pulled up a chair for him by the time they crossed the room, and Iwaizumi wasted no time in unceremoniously plopping him into it. Iwaizumi took Yahaba’s hand.

“You ready?” Iwaizumi asked, and Oikawa nudged him with his foot.

“Win it for me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa whispered at his shoulder. Yahaba nodded back, and they began.

For the first time in ten years, Iwaizumi thought he might actually lose. Yahaba was vicious and was so not above borderline-cheating to get the advantage. The group was split nearly fifty-fifty in cheering, Oikawa continued quietly encouraging Iwaizumi over his shoulder and it made Iwaizumi smile. The match continued longer than Iwaizumi would have liked, and his arms had started to shake, but he could tell Yahaba was tiring too. Iwaizumi tore his gaze from Yahaba to look at Oikawa.

“This one’s for you.” Iwaizumi whispered before pushing Yahaba’s hand to the table. The boys cheered louder for that match than any before, and he noticed Hanamaki slip Matsukawa a five-thousand-yen bill. They moved around Iwaizumi, cheering and high-fiving, but Iwaizumi didn’t move his eyes from Oikawa’s face.

The smile that settled over Oikawa’s features was so _natural_. It was so seamless and bright that it made Iwaizumi’s heart flutter around his ribcage. Oikawa’s cheeks had taken on the slightest shade of pink, just hovering below shining brown eyes. Iwaizumi drank it all in, let it coarse through his veins, and for the first time in a long time Iwaizumi smiled for something. Iwaizumi smiled for someone. Iwaizumi smiled _for Oikawa_.

Dinner that night was easy. The conversation flowed freely around the table, even Kenma joined in a few times, usually at Kuroo’s expense, but hey, progress is progress. Iwaizumi answered countless questions about his life, what he did, the things he’d liked to do, and things of the ilk. Oikawa pressured him for stories about high school, and laughed himself hoarse when he’d explained The Great Senior Prom Fiasco. It involved shrimp in his pants. That’s all you need to know. As the evening unraveled, he’d ended up on his balcony with Oikawa.

It was the kind of summer night that promises you something. The kind that weaves its way around you, settling around your shoulders and pooling at your feet. The kind that sends a chill and soothes it with ambiance. The kind of night where you find yourself falling in love.

“I like aliens.” Oikawa said, face tilted to the stars. His hair fell around his ears, longer than Iwaizumi remembered. He was stricken with the urge to _touch_ again, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah?” Iwaizumi replied, “Why is that?” Oikawa turned to look at Iwaizumi, eyes squinted just so, brows lowered just so.

“What’s not to like?” Oikawa started, taking a step closer. “They get to live in space, Iwa-chan. Can you imagine how tiny we all look from up there? And the view of the stars is probably amazing, imagine how bright they’d be!” Oikawa chattered, smiling one of the real smiles that Iwaizumi found himself so fond of. _I don’t have to imagine._ Iwaizumi thought, eyes softening. _I’ve already seen it._

“Besides!” Oikawa continued, “The best movies ever made are made about aliens, and I don’t take criticism.” He finished, and Iwaizumi laughed.

“Don’t you worry, I wasn’t about to criticize. What’s your favorite one?” Iwaizumi asked. To tell the truth, he had never, not once, considered aliens to be interesting in the slightest, but watching Oikawa talk about it had Iwaizumi hanging onto every word. Hell, he’d learn Klingon if it made Oikawa light up like that. Oikawa paused for a second, weighing his options.

“Probably _2031: Invasion_ , but only the remake, the first one honestly wasn’t that good. I almost didn’t go see the new one because of how bad the first one was. I mean honestly why bother with CGI if you’re gonna do it on a budget?” Oikawa explained, and Iwaizumi found himself nodding along.

“I’ve never seen that one, but if you insist it’s that good, I’ll have to watch it.” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa gasped.

“You’ve never seen it? Oh, Iwa-chan, we’ve got to fix that immediately. How have you made it so long watching god-awful excuses for movies?” And just like that, Oikawa wrapped his hand around Iwaizumi’s wrist and limped toward the door.

“Slow down, Shittykawa. You’re going to tear your stitches.” Iwaizumi said. At this point, he knew he should be encouraging Oikawa to walk unassisted as much as possible, within reason, of course. Oikawa’s little stunt earlier in the day definitely did not count as within reason. But he couldn’t help if he liked the way Oikawa’s waist fit against his arms. He especially couldn’t help it if Oikawa was going to lean into the touch like that. Idly, Iwaizumi wondered if Oikawa had ever been with someone, or if it had been a long time. Iwaizumi swatted away the unhelpful thought. It really was no use to ponder Oikawa’s relationship status. Or so he told himself. It did little to dissuade the thoughts when they came.

With Oikawa directing, they made their way down the hall to a room that had absolutely nothing in it save for a pile of blankets and a projector. Little glow in the dark stars dotted the ceiling and Iwaizumi wondered if Oikawa had put them up there. Oikawa ran his finger along a shelf of movies, smiling when he found _2031: Invasion_. Iwaizumi wasted no time in laying out the blankets in what he thought to be the most comfortable formation as Oikawa put the disc in.

“You have no idea what you’re in for, Iwa-chan. Prepare to be astonished.” Oikawa said as he walked over, stopping over the blankets. Oikawa leaned down and retreated three times before Iwaizumi had had enough of watching the pain come and go from his face.

“Do not, and I repeat do _not_ , mention this to anyone ever again.” Iwaizumi said before picking up Oikawa like he’d done the night before. Slowly, he lowered himself to his knees and laid Oikawa over the blankets. Even in the dark, Iwaizumi could see the way his face had taken on that ember-like glow.

“Thank you.” Oikawa said plainly, and Iwaizumi was suddenly made aware of the distinct lack of space between their faces.

“Anything for you.” Iwaizumi whispered, hoping and praying to Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all their shepherd friends, that Oikawa would recognize the words, recognize what Iwaizumi was trying to say. Oikawa smiled, real and infectious.

“It’s about to start, Iwa-chan. Can’t have you missing a second of the masterpiece.” Oikawa whispered, and Iwaizumi’s brain argued _You’re the masterpiece,_ but he drew back, leaning against the wall as the movie began playing.

The general premise of the movie was that aliens had invaded Chicago and wreaked absolute havoc on the city. His favorite part was watching Oikawa tense up every time the protagonists were in danger, even though he’d seen the movie countless times. In the end, the protagonist ends up locating the mind-control chip and implanting it in the alien king Xargon’s head, forcing him to withdraw his aliens from Earth and leave the poor humans alone. Iwaizumi admitted it was pretty good for a movie he’d paid half-attention to. As the credits rolled Iwaizumi became aware of Oikawa’s head as it dropped onto his shoulder. This was becoming a pattern, one that Iwaizumi liked more than he cared to admit.

Had he been a more sensible man, he would have gently woken Oikawa up. Taken him back to his room, perhaps. But, more and more these days, Iwaizumi was finding himself to be a rather not sensible man. As the projector whirred to a stop, Iwaizumi let his eyelids droop. He tipped his head against Oikawa’s and let sleep claim him. He’d deal with tomorrow when it came, if it came. Time seemed to contract under the plastic stars, and Iwaizumi was happy to let it.

Iwaizumi woke to sunlight streaming in through the window. His neck was kinked all to hell, but the sleeping Oikawa next to him served as stellar motivation not to move. Iwaizumi instead focused on stretching out his legs. He bit his lip against the groan that threatened to escape, to no avail as the sound found its way into the room. Oikawa startled at his shoulder, bumping the top of his head into Iwaizumi’s cheek.

“I’m up! I’m up!” Oikawa sputtered sticking out his arms. Iwaizumi laughed.

“You’re a little late.” Iwaizumi said, and Oikawa turned wide eyes on him. “What time is it?” Oikawa asked as his mouth split into a yawn. Iwaizumi wasted no time in marveling at Oikawa’s quite impressive bedhead. It stuck up this way and that, matting itself into a nest at the top, flattened where Iwaizumi had lain against it. Oikawa followed his gaze and promptly shoved his hands over it.

“Iwa-chan don’t _look_! You’re not meant to see me in such a fragile state!” Oikawa squeaked, ducking his head down to his chest.

“Give it up, Oikawa. You don’t look any worse than usual.” Iwaizumi drawled. Oikawa just smacked a hand on Iwaizumi’s bicep before running his hands through his hair. “You’re making it so much worse.” Iwaizumi chided. He didn’t know if it was the sleep still threading through his brain or the stupidity that was there on the regular that made him reach a hand out to the soft brown mess on Oikawa’s head. He carded his fingers through Oikawa’s hair, pushing it back and away from his face until it resembled something presentable.

“There you go.” Iwaizumi said softly, pleased by the enchanted look on Oikawa’s face.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa cleared his throat “Would you like to—” A loud banging on the door cut him off.

“Nightshade,” Matsukawa’s voice whined from outside. “I know you’re probably _busy_ ,” A few poorly-muffled laughs filtered through the door. “But we made breakfast for you, and it would be incredibly rude not to eat it, don’t you think?” Iwaizumi wanted to bash Matsukawa’s face in with his fist.

“I’ll be right there!” Oikawa replied, struggling to stand. Iwaizumi slipped an arm around his waist, and together they stood. Iwaizumi wanted to remain calm, wanted to do anything but ask what Oikawa had been about to say. He wanted to think it wasn’t wishful thinking, but he was almost certain that it was. He unfastened his arm from Oikawa’s waist and stood a few paces in front of him.

“Okay,” Iwaizumi said, “We’re going to work on getting you down to the dining hall without taking a break.” Iwaizumi finished, and Oikawa’s eyes went wide, already teetering a little on his feet. “Of course, if we can’t do that, it’s perfectly fine, I’ll be here the whole time.”

“You’re not going to just take off down the hall the second you open the door?” Oikawa asked and Iwaizumi sent him a dubious look.

“Why in the hell would I do that?” Iwaizumi asked, genuinely concerned with how serious Oikawa had sounded. Oikawa just shrugged and took a step forward, careful to reduce the weight he put on his bad side. They’d made it about halfway down the hall when Oikawa’s steps became smaller and smaller.

“Iwa-chan,” He whispered, “I think I need help.” Iwaizumi wasted no time in assuming his position at Oikawa’s side.

“Is your knee okay?” Iwaizumi asked. He could feel Oikawa tense up at the question.

“How did you…” Oikawa trailed off, eyes turning distrustful.

“I interned as a trainer for a while, you’ve clearly got a bad knee. It probably doesn’t help that you were stabbed on the opposite side. It’s a catch twenty-two.” Iwaizumi said plainly, careful to _not_ notice the way that Oikawa’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“You’re good, Iwa-chan. I hurt it a long time ago. Doesn't bother me too much now.” Oikawa didn’t elaborate, and Iwaizumi felt as though this was another one of the things he really shouldn’t ask about. By the time they’d made it down to the dining hall, the entire crew was chatting away loudly, but they still stood and waited for Oikawa to take a seat before following suit, even though it took an agonizing amount of time. Oikawa took a seat, glancing down at the plate before blushing head to toe.

“I-I think this one’s for you, Iwaizumi” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi was immediately alarmed at the distinct lack of Iwa-chan present in the sentence. Sure enough, when Iwaizumi looked down at the plate, he found himself in an equally as compromising position.

There was a stack on pancakes on the plate, nothing too strange. However, what was very strange was the face made out of banana slices and the spikes made of pretzels sticking out of the head. To make matters worse, _Iwa-chan_ had been spelled out in syrup along the top edge of the plate. Matsukawa put a hand over his mouth to cover his laughter.

“Nope, that one’s for you, boss.” The table erupted into various bouts of jeers and laughs, and Iwaizumi wanted to melt into a puddle. Within seconds, Oikawa had composed himself again, hooking an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders.

“Look, Iwa-chan, your face is precious even when you’re a pancake!” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi wanted to die. Pass away. Kick the bucket. Become aliven’t. Commit the sewer slide. He had no such luck, of course, as there was a colossal idiot who still needed medical attention, and perhaps attention of other kinds, but that was neither here nor there. It was then that Hanamaki cleared his throats.

“Ah, Nightshade, I know you’ve been out of commission for a while, but we do have some _pressing matters_ to discuss with you.” He spoke. Iwaizumi had wondered why Nightshade seemed distinctly not busy over the past few weeks. It made sense that Hanamaki would take over for him, given that there was no second in command.

“Let’s hear it then.” Oikawa said around a mouthful of pancake. Hanamaki’s gaze flicked between Iwaizumi and Oikawa, and Iwaizumi readied himself to take his leave. Oikawa noted Hanamaki’s reservation.

“Whatever you’ve got to say, Makki, Iwa-chan can hear too. He’s more than proved his loyalty, don’t you think?” That same horrifying honey coated his voice, and Iwaizumi felt like he was being scrutinized by the room. Kenma’s hand went up. “Kenma.” Oikawa acknowledged.

“We still don’t know his tie to Ushijima; therefore, he cannot be trusted.” Kenma said, and it would have hurt more, but Iwaizumi knew that Kenma was only practicing common sense. Iwaizumi didn’t know why Ushijima held any sort of meaning to them, but he wasn’t eager to find out.

“Go on, Iwa-chan, tell them.” Oikawa said. Iwaizumi had never mentioned anything about Ushijima to Oikawa. He took the hint. Oikawa was giving him a free pass to lie about whatever connection he had to the man. Iwaizumi didn’t take it. There was no need to lie.

“He was my boss.” Iwaizumi said plainly.

There was a knife at his throat in an instant.

 _Well damn._ Iwaizumi thought. _Maybe I should have said he was my ex._ All things considered; he wasn’t all that concerned with the knife at his throat. He was fairly certain that Oikawa would throw one hell of a fit if his throat spilled out on the floor. It was Yahaba that held the knife, pressing it to the hollow of his throat. Oikawa tossed up a single finger.

“Wait.” Was all he said. Oikawa blinked once at Iwaizumi. “Let him explain.” Yahaba, however, did not seem all that moved by Oikawa’s little speech, and pressed the knife hard enough that Iwaizumi wondered if it had drawn blood. “Go ahead, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa said, blinking a single time at Iwaizumi again. Iwaizumi knew for certain that Oikawa was begging him to lie, but it only confused him more, Iwaizumi still had absolutely zero reason to lie.

“I’m in the middle of my residency at Seijoh General, and he was my attending. A shitty boss, if that helps.” Iwaizumi said. The room relaxed somewhat at that, and Oikawa’s chest contracted as he let out a sigh.

“So that’s why you said you’d see him in hell.” Oikawa mused, rubbing a hand over his chin. “See, boys, Iwa-chan has nothing to hide. Now if we could get on with things I would _highly_ —”

“Did you know a man by the name of Tendou Satori?” Yahaba interrupted, refusing to drop the blade.

“Um,” Iwaizumi leafed through his memories of hospital staff, “Is he a psychiatrist?” Iwaizumi asked, and the room gave a collective eyeroll.

“He clearly doesn’t know anything. Drop it Yahaba.” Kyoutani grunted, settling into his seat. Yahaba didn’t move. Oikawa placed both hands on the table, leaning on them as he stood.

“If I found Iwaizumi to be a serious threat to the syndicate, I would have dealt with him _accordingly._ I will interpret this question of my authority as a lapse in judgement. I encourage you all to not make the same mistake again.” Oikawa said, voice lacking any hint of sweetness. His voice flowed through the room, cold and sharp as winter wind. Iwaizumi didn’t know if he was still breathing. Yahaba retracted the knife so quickly that Iwaizumi almost didn’t notice he’d moved. Iwaizumi turned wide eyes on Oikawa, hoping to find a trace of softness there. There was no such thing, only that same raging fire that seemed to take over when emotions were running high.

Iwaizumi acted without thinking. Considering everything that had happened to him over the past month, he was surprised he was capable of forming coherent thoughts at all. He reached a hand out to rest on Oikawa’s knee. He felt Oikawa go stock still. He lifted his pointer finger placing two light taps on it before placing it back in his lap. Oikawa seemed to relax a bit after that. Iwaizumi watched as he tapped the table. Twice. Pointer finger and everything.

 _It’s okay._ The taps said. Iwaizumi allowed himself to lean back in his chair.

“All right, now that we’re done with _that_. I believe Makki had something to tell me.” Distrustful looks fell on Iwaizumi and he noted the way Oikawa’s shoulders climbed for his ears. Iwaizumi tapped the toe of his boot against Oikawa’s chair leg twice. It worked like a charm. Iwaizumi had anticipated their reactions. He didn’t expect any form of trust from them. Iwaizumi had to let Oikawa know that he could take it. Hanamaki cleared his throat.

“There are three major orders of business to address. I will address them in order of ascending importance.” Hanamaki began.

“Understood.” The table chorused. Iwaizumi wanted to ask Oikawa a thousand questions about how this whole thing worked, but he figured it would have to wait until a more opportune moment.

“The first of which being, we have intel from the Inarizaki Syndicate that tensions with between Shiratorizawa and Karasuno have come to a head. We can expect more information on that soon. Inquiries?” Hanamaki finished. Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa stood. “Nightshade.” Hanamaki said with a bow.

“What spurred on this conflict?” Oikawa asked, face drawn in hard lines. Iwaizumi was both desperate to know more about the conflict and distracted by Oikawa. Damn the pretty boys. If you asked Iwaizumi, he’d tell you to steer as far clear as you could before they caught you in their little botched kidnappings and identified constellations with you. Can’t trust a damn pretty boy, _that_ is for sure. Hanamaki drew in a deep breath.

“Territory conflict in Miyagi. Karasuno has expanded rapidly over the past year, they’re looking for the next step.” Hanamaki replied. Oikawa remained standing. “How can we expect this to impact Aoba Johsai?” Oikawa asked. Hanamaki’s teeth worried over his bottom lip.

“That brings me to my next point. We have received a formal letter of request for allyship from Shiratorizawa.” Iwaizumi whipped his head at the sound of eight gasps. Whatever was going on, it couldn’t be good. Oikawa remained standing.

“How long do we have to accept or decline?” Oikawa asked.

“They’re giving us a week to accept, any lack of response or other attempt at communication will result in the invitation being automatically declined.” Hanamaki said, and Iwaizumi did not like the look that crossed Oikawa’s face. He wanted to stand up his damn self and ask what in the sweet baby Jesus was going on here.

Iwaizumi took in the scene. The _mafia_ part of _botched mafia kidnapping_ was suddenly very real, and very much concerning to Iwaizumi. He wondered where he fit in to all of this, but he knew that Oikawa would likely tell him all he needed to know when they stepped out of the room. Oikawa was bad at a lot of things, it was true, but he had been very good about making sure Iwaizumi wasn’t left in the dark. Even in matters of life or death, he’d kept Iwaizumi safe. Iwaizumi felt an olive branch of trust unfurl in his chest, and he turned his rapt attention back on Oikawa’s face.

“Understood. And the third point?” Oikawa asked, Hanamaki hesitated. Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa’s face contorted into something resembling fear. He didn’t know what it was that could have brought on such and expression, and the truth was that he didn’t particularly care to. Whatever it was should be left between Oikawa and God. The atmosphere in the room changed, like a chill hand found its way through the double doors and settled in the room.

Iwaizumi’s eyes darted around the room to find the rest of those seated at the table looking straight down into their laps. Iwaizumi’s stomach did a backflip as footsteps clicked out across the floor. A single man stood nearly silhouetted by the windows. Iwaizumi watched as Oikawa’s eyes nearly tore themselves in half the way they split open. Iwaizumi felt Oikawa’s hand around his wrist in an instant, shoving his sleeve down to cover his arm completely. Iwaizumi tried to send an inquisitive look his way, but Oikawa had already dropped into a ninety-degree bow. In fact, everyone had. Iwaizumi wasted no time in doing the same. Oikawa rose first.

“Welcome home, father.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we feeling, Seijoh Syndicate???


	8. Chapter Eight: Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iwaizumi has some awful karma, and Oikawa's got something to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY EVERYONE. Alright, I know I've been gone for a fat moment, but in my defense I got sick and also school sucks, but here I am again, and can I just say thank you so much for your support holy hell. Thank you all for commenting (I LOVE HEARING YOUR THOUGHTS) and we just hit one hundred kudos on this work and it's blowing my mind. I do all this for you guys, so thank you for supporting me in return, I adore you all.
> 
> *****ALSO*****  
> tw for homophobia applies from here on out stay safe out there

The man was slim but strong, and wasted no time in looking over the table as he approached.

“Nightshade.” He said, clasping a hand over Oikawa’s shoulder. Iwaizumi watched as his back went ramrod straight, he cringed at the way it probably pulled at the new skin that had just started to creep over the ragged edges of Oikawa’s wound.

“Father.” Oikawa repeated. They stared at each other for a moment before Oikawa’s father clapped his hands once, and Hanamaki darted off, only to return moments later with wine. He wasted no time in handing off the pitcher to Yahaba, who filled the glasses one by one, starting with Oikawa’s father and ending with Yahaba before crossing over to Iwaizumi. Yahaba hesitated, eyes flicking to Oikawa. Iwaizumi met Oikawa’s gaze, noticing the fear that curled under his irises. Oikawa just nodded once and gently closed his eyes for a moment.

“Ah, enough with that! Let us drink.” Iwaizumi wrapped a hand around the cup, more of a chalice, really, if he thought about it. Deep maroon liquid splashed up the sides. Only then did he notice his hands were shaking as he held it. He waited for Oikawa’s father to start take a sip, but he just nodded at his son.

“I call forth this meeting of the members of the Aoba Johsai Seijoh Syndicate. Let us drink the wine and revel in the strength of our brotherhood and unity. Ivy over the knife.” Oikawa said, Iwaizumi tried to lose himself in Oikawa’s face as he had the night before, tried to blanket himself in soft features and gentle smiles, but there was just a blank expression. Iwaizumi felt like he was drowning.

“Ivy over the knife.” Everyone chorused. Iwaizumi moved his lips, hoping that Oikawa’s father would not catch on to the fact that he had no fucking idea what was happening. He held off on drinking until everyone else’s glasses were halfway to their lips. Oikawa swallowed once; Iwaizumi followed suit before placing the cup back on the table. Immediately, Oikawa’s eyes found Iwaizumi’s. Something nearly crazed lay there, but he didn’t speak for a moment.

“Father, there is business we must attend to, if you would excuse us—” Oikawa started only to be cut off.

“Have you forgotten, son? Have you forgotten who ran this great organization before you, or have you become so tangled up with your _street rats_ ,” He glared at Kenma, Iwaizumi noticed the way Kenma’s hand flew out to grip Kuroo’s wrist, begging him to stay seated, “And your _misfits_?” His stare could have cut steel. He didn’t know how Matsukawa held the gaze. “And your—”

“ _Enough._ When you passed your leadership to me, you trusted me to do the best thing. I have done it.” Oikawa countered.

“If you’ve truly done the best thing, why do you have individuals who show such great disrespect sitting at this table?” Oikawa’s father spat, and Oikawa recoiled.

“My command has been nothing but the absolute picture of respect since you’ve arrived.” Oikawa retorted, moving a step closer to his father.

“Have they?” Oikawa’s father said, tilting his head and pointing a slender and scarred finger at Iwaizumi. _Fuck._ Iwaizumi thought. He didn’t know nearly enough about their weird traditions to know what counted as disrespectful and what didn’t.

“Who is he, by the way? The new tenth in command? Does that mean you’ve given Hanamaki a promotion at long last?” Oikawa blanched. Iwaizumi didn’t know _what_ kind of sentence was about to come out of Oikawa’s mouth but he was ninety-nine percent sure he was going to end up dead in a ditch because of it.

“I do not know what you are referring to, father. He has been the picture of respect as well. He has been recruited as our healer and medic and has been extended a formal invitation of initiation. Now, I really must—” Oikawa said as he gripped Iwaizumi’s arm, turning to leave.

“Was it that easy, Nightshade?” His father asked, and Oikawa stopped in his tracks. Iwaizumi didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about, but he felt the way Oikawa’s grip tightened on his wrist. “How do you think he’d feel, hm? Replaced, and so soon, too.” Oikawa began to shake.

“It’s been five years, father.” Oikawa said, stalking out the door. Iwaizumi noticed the way his hand clutched his bad side, breath seething through teeth. Iwaizumi glanced around, checking for company.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi said, Oikawa didn’t stop moving, “ _Oikawa._ ” At last, he halted, whirling on Iwaizumi.

“Don’t listen to a damn thing that bastard says, okay?” Oikawa yelled, Iwaizumi nodded, moving a hand to Oikawa’s shoulder.

“Oikawa, you’re going to hurt yourself if you move too much.” Oikawa met Iwaizumi’s eyes before a half-sob choked out of him. His fists were balled tight in anger, and when he opened his eyes again, that same rampant look clouded his gaze.

“Iwaizumi.” Oikawa said, spitting the name like a command, “Did you drink the wine?” Oikawa asked, taking a step closer. Iwaizumi nodded, desperately trying to lean a little further from Oikawa. Iwaizumi didn’t like the look on his face. He missed the star child from the night before. Oikawa’s face fell.

“Listen very closely, Iwa-chan, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover and not that much time before my father comes looking for me.” Oikawa started down the hall, but limped and panted at every step. Iwaizumi couldn’t bear the sight. Iwaizumi stopped behind Oikawa, tapping his shoulder. _It’s okay._

“Get on my back, Shittykawa. You’re stressing me out.” Oikawa hesitated but didn’t argue, moving to straddle Iwaizumi’s hips. Oikawa took a deep breath and lowered his voice.

“First things first, that wine was poisoned. It won’t affect me or the command, but it will affect you. Second, my father passed leadership over to me seven years ago, he sustained an injury that made it impossible for him to continue, and he had an heir that was of age as well as the fact that he was nearly sixty and it was time for him to retire regardless.” Oikawa babbled. Iwaizumi felt like he had _glossed over_ the whole you-have-just-been-poisoned-thing, but the day was so far from normal that he let it slide. Oikawa directed him down a hallway they hadn’t been down before and resumed talking.

“Third, he has been pressuring me to fill the spot of second-in-command for years now. Most of the syndicate knows why I have refused. Fourth, the offer I made at breakfast still stands. The invitation is extended, should you want to become a member of Aoba Johsai. You are also welcome to formally be recognized as a medic, should you not want to join us entirely.” Oikawa finished, dropping his head onto Iwaizumi’s shoulder. Iwaizumi opened his mouth to respond, but Oikawa hushed him.

"And I’m really sorry, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa whispered, burying his nose into the collar of Iwaizumi’s shirt.

“What for, Oikawa?”

“My dad, for kidnapping you, for giving you all these weird choices, for getting you poisoned. It’s my fault, and I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi wilted under the words. He wondered if Oikawa ever truly gave himself a break. Iwaizumi sighed as they approached the end of the corridor.

“You are such a tremendous idiot, Oikawa. I’m choosing to be here, and I’ll keep choosing it. Whether you believe me or not, it’s the truth.” Iwaizumi said, exhaling as he placed Oikawa on the floor. Oikawa just blinked up at him, placing a hand on Iwaizumi’s chest. Iwaizumi wondered if Oikawa could feel the way his heart pounded beneath his clothes, thundering some ancient driving rhythm.

Iwaizumi just looked at Oikawa, the small smile and the dusty pink blush on his cheekbones. In that moment he couldn’t be bothered with things as trivial as ingesting poison. There was Oikawa and there was not. It was _so obvious_ what the right choice was. Iwaizumi leaned a fraction of an inch closer, hoping Oikawa would meet him there. Oikawa leaned a bit closer, never losing Iwaizumi’s gaze. Iwaizumi let his eyes wander across Oikawa’s features, let his hand find the small of Oikawa’s back. Oikawa let out a little gasp at the touch. Then he let out a big gasp.

“Iwa-chan, the _poison_.” Oikawa squeaked, darting away and rifling his way through cabinets and drawers. Iwaizumi wanted to let the poison do its thing at that point. He’d let himself slip twice now. It was becoming a problem.

 _Well damn, maybe if he didn’t look so perfect all the time, maybe I wouldn’t want to kiss him all the time._ Iwaizumi thought, watching as Oikawa returned with a bottle of powder and a glass of water.

“Okay, Iwa-chan. You’re going to put the powder on your tongue and drink the water. Then you’re going to have a nice long nap until my father leaves.” Oikawa said, voice layering over itself in equal parts venom and sweetness. Oikawa extended both to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi took the water and dunked his hand below the surface.

“Iwa-chan what the everloving—” Oikawa cut himself off with a gasp as Iwaizumi ran wet fingers through perfectly styled hair. “What the _fuck_ , Iwa-chan!” Oikawa said, and splashed the rest of the water over Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi just looked at him, hair sticking up hither and thither. However, his expression was still fresh, soft surprise glowing in his eyes and a disgruntled smile playing on his lips. Iwaizumi rooted himself to the spot.

_That didn’t work at all._

“Just wanted to try something out.” Iwaizumi explained, putting on a smirk. He took the glass from Oikawa and filled it again before tapping the powder into his mouth and swallowing. It tasted like roasted ass. Iwaizumi coughed once, but kept it down.

“I highly recommend never trying it out again, or I’ll stick you with Kenma for a week!” Oikawa cried, patting at his hair.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I definitely would, Iwa-chan.”

“No, you wouldn’t. Who else would carry you around everywhere?” Iwaizumi asked, and Oikawa’s mouth snicked shut. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh at the way he could practically see the cogs in Oikawa’s brain turning. At last, he stuck a finger up.

“Kyoutani.” Oikawa said. Iwaizumi just laughed.

“Yahaba.” Iwaizumi countered. Oikawa nodded solemnly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, well. I guess it can’t be helped.” Oikawa smiled, taking that same traitorous step toward Iwaizumi that seemed to be the precursor to impeded decision making and hellfire raining through Iwaizumi’s entire body.

Oikawa took another step forward, teeth flashing out over his bottom lip. _He’s worried_. Iwaizumi thought. Iwaizumi wished he could tell Oikawa there was no reason to be. He’d tell him that even after everything, he’d still found himself craving the little brunette’s company. Even after everything, he’d still trust Oikawa with his life. Even after everything, he felt his heart play trapeze in his chest. Iwaizumi knew this was the part where should he shake his head to clear it and make some smarmy comment. He knew what he should do, but he was also painfully aware of what he _wanted_. Iwaizumi just looked at Oikawa, he knew that was all it took. And it was.

It was so easy to get lost in those wide fawn-colored eyes, to dive so deep that the surface is just a memory, and Iwaizumi did. He felt his face heat under the radiance that poured from Oikawa, but he didn’t mind. He placed a hand on Oikawa’s cheek, letting his thumb trace the sharp cheekbones under the skin. He didn’t know if that little inhale had come from Oikawa or himself, but the sound burrowed in his ears nonetheless. Oikawa tilted his chin down just a fraction, changing the angle just enough, it was an acceptance, it was permission. Oikawa leaned forward, closing the distance at a maddening pace, but Iwaizumi was in no hurry. Eternity yawned before him, and for the first time in ages he allowed himself to fill it with all the many things he truly desired. It didn’t matter that most of them now had a certain brown-eyed man living within them. It was welcome. It was perfect. Iwaizumi tilted his head, moving to close that last centimeter between them. Oikawa stopped moving, lips pulling into a smile.

“There’s something on your nose.” Oikawa whispered, flicking a thumb over Iwaizumi’s face. The room returned to Iwaizumi, and he knew his face must be an absolute _sight_. Oikawa didn’t move, he stayed that same awful distance from Iwaizumi, close enough to reach, but not close enough to have.

“Iwa-chan, I’m flattered, truly.” Oikawa started. Iwaizumi didn’t know if he was still breathing. The feeling of craving the never-ending abyss of death had returned and he wanted to kick himself so hard that he’d never have children. _Of course._ Iwaizumi thought. “But there are things you still don’t know about me, about my life. All in due time though, Iwa-chan, all in due time.” Oikawa whispered. He moved then, limping away from Iwaizumi and out the door. Iwaizumi didn’t follow. He felt like Oikawa had just steamrolled him. Iwaizumi put his back to the wall and slid down it. The floor was a good a place to have a breakdown as any he supposed.

Iwaizumi didn’t know if he wanted to cry. He didn’t know if he wanted to be mad at Oikawa, or if he wanted to be mad at himself for pushing for something he almost definitely could not have. At the end of the day, he decided, it was better to just go back to his room. Oikawa had intended for that anyway. Iwaizumi dragged himself off the floor and headed down the hallway. Iwaizumi had never been more grateful to see that door in his life. He thought he might give it a hug if that were a physical capability. He swung it open and plopped onto the bed. Staring at the little plants on his windowsill. His heart constricted at the sight and he turned his gaze to the table. The chessboard. He moved his eyes again. The tapestry. In the end, he just covered his face with a pillow and lamented his own loser-hood. Oikawa had practically plastered himself on the walls. There was nothing in this entire room that did not absolutely reek of him. Maybe coming here had been the wrong choice to make.

Iwaizumi turned his eyes back to the Lily of the Valley, preening so effortlessly in the sun. The Skyflower had taken a turn for the worst over the past few days. Oikawa had muttered about checking the pH later, but the moment never came. As Iwaizumi scanned over the terra cotta surface, he noticed the note. _Typical._ Iwaizumi thought ruefully. He padded over to the window and took the paper in his hands.

_I’ll come by tonight._

_You didn’t actually think I’d keep you waiting, did you?_

_Oikawa._

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened as he saw the name on the paper. Oikawa had spoken quite freely, but had never actually put his name down on paper. That sort of thing seemed dangerous. He held the little show of faith in his hands and allowed that spark of hope to ignite once more. _Maybe all is not lost._ He thought, letting the little wildfire warm his chest just a bit.

Iwaizumi spent the rest of the day pacing his room, worrying chess pieces between his fingers and tracing over the many parts of the Skyflower. Eventually, he tired of the same four walls staring him down, and ventured to the hallway. Iwaizumi walked without purpose but his mind hummed with anticipation. However, it was quickly squashed by the notion that perhaps Oikawa would float into his room and declare himself gloriously uninterested. It made Iwaizumi’s stomach flip and heart stutter. Iwaizumi nearly ran into the wall several times as he made his way around the manor. He’d nearly done it again and was halfway to cursing himself when a strong hand wrapped around his wrist.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” A low voice rumbled somewhere above him. Iwaizumi lifted his head to meet piecing brown eyes and the face of Oikawa’s father. Iwaizumi’s heart dropped to his shoes as he swallowed thickly.

“Ah, my apologies, sir.” Iwaizumi said, fighting to keep his tone level. He dropped into a bow. “Iwaizumi Hajime.” Iwaizumi said, hoping he wasn’t royally fucking up. He raised himself to find Oikawa’s father looking at him with untamed disgust.

 _I have royally fucked up._ Iwaizumi’s brain played on loop.

“What, no codename? I’m hurt.” Oikawa’s father pouted. Iwaizumi recognized the expression immediately. Oikawa often made the same face, but it was absent of malice, and absent of the unbridled distaste that glittered in his father’s eyes. Iwaizumi swallowed hard. He didn’t have a codename to give. Oikawa had declared him the medic earlier in the day, and the lie was quickly becoming massively problematic for Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi just bowed again.

“I apologize, I guess I’m just still getting used to the decorum.” Iwaizumi admitted. He figured a half-truth was harder to see through than a mountain of steaming bullshit.

“Speaking of, how exactly did my son come across you, Iwaizumi?” The man droned, sitting into his hip, the perfect picture of boredom crossing his face. Iwaizumi felt like he was being set up. He didn’t know what Oikawa had told his father.

“He admired my work at Seijoh General.” Iwaizumi lied. Absolutely no one admired his work at Seijoh General. It’s kind of hard to stand out next to the likes of Ushijima, and Iwaizumi was perfectly content to slink about in his shadow. Oikawa’s father nodded.

“I figure it was about time he found someone to take care of this lot.” He mused, and Iwaizumi nodded, careful to keep it calm. “You know, I figured he’d never promote that Hanamaki.” He continued, and Iwaizumi just raised his eyebrows. As far as Iwaizumi was concerned, Hanamaki had definitely not been promoted. “You must be quite good, if he was willing to do that. How’s everything treating you, Iwaizumi?” He asked.

“It’s been an adjustment, but not an unwelcome one. It’s a beautiful place.” Iwaizumi said, opting for the truth.

“You should have seen this place when I was in command. My son hasn’t kept up with things very well.” Iwaizumi bristled at the comment, he had never seen a damn thing out of place the entire time he’d been here. “Speaking of my son, how’s he treating you?” The man’s voice grew venomous over the last two words, and even Iwaizumi, endowed with two entire braincells, took only seconds to figure out why.

“Excellently.” Iwaizumi spat out. He was aware he was probably supposed to _not_ instigate a fight with the boss’ father, but Iwaizumi had never taken kindly to having those he cared about being insulted. Oikawa’s father’s eyes narrowed.

“I’m sure he has been treating you _excellently_. Don’t get too close Iwaizumi, this is your first and only warning.” Oikawa’s father moved to walk past him, but dropped his mouth at his ear as he did, voice turning to a whisper, “I saw you leave after you drank the wine, Iwaizumi. I see how he defends you, and if I had to put money on it, I bet you’re not supposed to be here. So, why don’t you tell me what your codename is, and put my mind at ease?” Iwaizumi stiffened, swallowing twice. He continued, “you do know that only members of the command are allowed here, don’t you, and you know what happens to trespassers.” Iwaizumi felt the tip of a blade press against his torso. He was sick and tired of having his life threatened on a weekly basis. Iwaizumi took a deep breath in, racking his brain for names of poisonous plants. He couldn’t pick one that was already in use, and Lily of the Valley was definitely off limits for one reason or another.

“It’s…” Iwaizumi’s brain was not working fast enough, and he felt Oikawa’s father chuckle in his ear.

“Come on, Iwaizumi, no need to be shy. I go by Oleander, what about you?” The man said, and Iwaizumi winced as the blade pricked his skin, distantly he wondered if he was bleeding. Iwaizumi’s mind went completely blank. God, where was Oikawa when you needed him. He stuttered a few times, and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain that was slowly growing worse in his abdomen. Oleander wasn’t going to let him off with this one. “Tell me your name, or show me that pretty tattoo, either one.” Iwaizumi knew that coming up with a name was his best bet.

“It’s—”

“Skyflower! Where the hell have you been? Did you think my stitches were going to clean themselves?” Oikawa’s voice called from down the hallway, harsh and commanding. Iwaizumi whirled to face him, blood rushing back into his face. The front of his shirt now bore a wide red spot, but in that moment, he could not have been more grateful for Oikawa, in spite of the fact he was dreadfully late. Oleander flicked the blade up his sleeve eyes narrowing at his son.

“Skyflower?” Oleander leered, walking toward his son. “And why that?” Oikawa just gave an easy smile.

“Don’t you think he’s pretty, father? And his hair is all spikey, and his personality is decidedly bitter. All things considered; I feel as though it’s fairly accurate.” Oikawa said, earning a downright caustic glare from his father.

“I’d expect nothing less from _you_.” Oleander spat, leaning in close to Oikawa’s face, “Fucking _queer_.”

Iwaizumi moved without thinking, rushing to step between Oikawa and his father.

“The _fuck_ did you just say to him?” Iwaizumi demanded, determining that this was, in fact, his hill to die on, whether it ended up being literal or metaphorical. Oleander seemed to recoil, like Iwaizumi was not something he’d touch with a ten-foot pole.

“Isn’t it true?” Oleander hissed, folding his arms, “Tell me it’s not true, Nightshade, I’d _love_ to hear it.” Behind Iwaizumi, Oikawa flinched, staring intensely at the floor.

“Iwa-chan, don’t do this.” Oikawa whispered, balling his hands into fists. Iwaizumi just shook his head.

“How are you going to show up, and talk to your own son like that?” Iwaizumi seethed.

“That is no son of mine.” Oleander shouted, taking a step forward, “There is not a day that passes that I do not regret leaving Aoba Johsai in his hands. Look at what it’s turned into.” Oleander said, tossing his hands up for emphasis. Iwaizumi closed the gap between them, ignoring the way Oleander’s face pulled into a grimace.

“He deserves better than you, anyway.” Iwaizumi said, shoving at Oleander’s shoulders. Oikawa flinched again. Oleander’s face cracked into a grin, as he moved, knocking out Iwaizumi’s legs in a swift kick, and landing another against his ribcage. Iwaizumi gasped for air, pushing himself up.

“Father.” Oikawa’s voice said, warning curling around the words. Iwaizumi pulled himself to his feet. Oleander moved again, this time to land a blow across Iwaizumi’s cheek. Iwaizumi tasted blood, but didn’t fall.

“Don’t _touch_ him.” Oikawa yelled, moving forward too quickly for his condition. Oikawa loosed a knife from his sleeve, tip pressed to his father’s Adam’s apple.

“My, perky today, aren’t we?” Oleander drawled. “Might want to check on _Iwa-chan_ there, he doesn’t have too long left.” Oikawa’s face blanched, connecting the dots quickly. Oikawa darted from Oleander, and Iwaizumi leered as he watched the man stroll down the hallway. He didn’t have all that long to dwell on it, seeing as the room was starting to spin. His heart was beating erratically, and his breaths came in gasps.

“’kawa?” Iwaizumi asked, and Oikawa just nodded once, eyes wide. _Fear_. Iwaizumi thought. He wondered what kind of incredible karma he had generated to be poisoned twice in one day. He watched Oikawa reach into his pocket, clicking a single button. Iwaizumi maintained consciousness long enough to hear footsteps thundering down the hallway, but soon enough the ebony that had rimmed his vision consumed it.

 _Oikawa doesn’t look pretty when he’s scared._ The thought was the last thing Iwaizumi remembered thinking, before everything went dark. He wasn’t even aware that his head had hit the floor.

Iwaizumi cracked his eyelids open a sliver. His head hurt like a fucking bitch, and he had negative idea of where he was or what the hell was happening. His side hurt, and his mouth tasted like a dumpster fire that someone put out with piss. He let out a groan as footsteps approached. He knew they were quiet, but it sounded like a goddamn jet engine to his ears.

“Iwa-chan?” Oikawa’s voice whispered. Iwaizumi wanted to tell him to shut up, but he was aware that given the circumstances, it would likely do more harm than good.

“Hey there, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi said, voice as quiet as humanly possible. Oikawa laid a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

“How are you feeling?” Oikawa asked, a slight tremor leaking through into the words. Iwaizumi huffed a laugh, but winced at the bolt of pain that darted through his head.

“I’m alright, don’t worry about it.” Iwaizumi said.

“That was so _stupid_ , Iwa-chan.” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi’s chest constricted at the unbelievable sadness in Oikawa’s voice. Iwaizumi reached out a hand in Oikawa’s general direction, satisfied when it found Oikawa’s knee.

“Like you’ve never done something stupid. You’re practically a professional.” Iwaizumi snarked, delighted when the ache in his head started to subside. Oikawa let out a little laugh, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“That was gross.” Iwaizumi added, and Oikawa laughed again, which only resulted in more snot dripping from his nose, and Oikawa doing the whole thing again.

“Iwa-chan, it’s rude to make someone laugh when they’re mad at you.” Oikawa replied, but his voice lacked enough conviction to make it convincing.

“I wasn’t going to just sit there, Oikawa.” Iwaizumi said, sweeping his thumb across Oikawa’s knee.

“That was still so astronomically stupid, Iwa-chan. Talking to him in the first place was stupid. And then he went and fucking poisoned you, and I didn’t _do_ anything about it.” Oikawa rambled, and Iwaizumi tapped Oikawa’s knee, twice, rapid succession, just like before.

 _It’s okay._ Iwaizumi wanted to say, but he knew Oikawa would have absolutely none of that.

“I assume you did un-poison me though, didn’t you?” Iwaizumi asked, and Oikawa nodded. “Then I think it’s safe to say you did a hell of a lot, Shittykawa.” Oikawa bowed his head and sniffled, Iwaizumi wanted to smack him for it.

“Why do you keep forgiving me?” Oikawa whispered, and Iwaizumi felt his heart fracture a bit at the question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Iwaizumi replied, squeezing Oikawa’s knee ever so slightly.

“Do you really need me to list off the whole host of things that are my fault, Iwa-chan? Don’t you think that’s a little cruel?” Oikawa mumbled, wringing his hands.

“You are so excellent at missing the point, Oikawa, it’s almost funny.” Iwaizumi said, moving his gaze to the ceiling, “You haven’t done anything that I need to forgive you for. I haven’t forgiven you for anything, but if you need to hear it one more time, I forgive you. I forgive you for everything you’ve done, everything you’re doing, and everything you’re going to do. I’ll keep forgiving you for the rest of my life, if that’s what you need.” Iwaizumi shut his eyes at the undeniable truth of the words. He knew his face was probably pink by now, but he prayed that his tanned skin was on his side, just this once. A weight dropped onto his shoulder, and he felt Oikawa’s hair tickle against his cheek.

“You don’t mean that.” Oikawa whispered. “You cannot mean that.” His voice was shaking, rife with disbelief.

“Believe me, Oikawa. I mean it.” Iwaizumi said, leaning his head onto Oikawa’s. Oikawa stayed silent for a while.

“Stay.” Oikawa said plainly, and Iwaizumi’s brow furrowed.

“Where did you think I was gonna go?” Iwaizumi said, a laugh playing along the words. Iwaizumi didn’t know if he could take many more stupid things out of Oikawa’s mouth. There had to be a daily limit put in place.

“No, I mean stay for real. As soon as I’m all healed, we’re going to be busy, and being busy means travel, and I don’t want to go without you.” Oikawa murmured into Iwaizumi’s neck. Iwaizumi’s body went completely still, as the weight of the request settled over him. Iwaizumi hadn’t thought of his old life in a while, but now the thoughts rushed back.

That little idea he’d entertained vaporized. He didn’t know why he’d believed in a future where he could have his cake and eat it too. He could still see Oikawa every day and go back to his old life. The realization was crushing.

“Oikawa, I need you to be honest with me.” Iwaizumi said, opting to keep his eyes shut. Oikawa nodded against his shoulder. “If I say no, and I leave and go back to the way it was before, will I ever see you again.” It was Oikawa’s turn to go still. They stayed like that for a moment, the silence slowly building a wall between them. At last, Oikawa took a deep breath.

“If you left, I’d never see you again. I’m not in the line of work where I can move so freely. If anyone ever recognized me I…I need you to stay. Please.” Oikawa whispered. Iwaizumi stayed silent, mulling over the options.

He considered telling Oikawa it was all too much, that he needed to go. He knew that Oikawa would neither stop him nor blame him. He knew that he could go back to everything he’d had before, but the more he thought about it, the less he was able to pinpoint down exactly what he’d had. He had a boss he hated, an apartment that was half the size of the room he stayed in now, and above all he had a distinct lack of one Oikawa. He knew if he left there would be a giant brown haired brown eyed hole in his life, that he didn’t know if he could fill at this point. You see, when you know the joy of finding someone, it becomes impossible to envision a life where they are simply no longer. It becomes impossible to imagine you’d make the choice to cut them from your life. It was simple, really, in all its complexity.

Then, there was telling Oikawa he’d stay. He’d be a gang member, effectively a wanted criminal. He’d live in Japan’s violent underbelly, and dance with the devils on the darkest of nights. He’d have a tattoo on his arm that announced to all the world exactly who he was. He’d bear the name Skyflower like a scarlet letter. He’d become unrecognizable from the Iwaizumi Hajime that had walked into the manor two months ago, but perhaps he should let that happen. Perhaps Iwaizumi Hajime needed to be remade in the most stunning of ways. Perhaps the metamorphosis he had been counting on had finally arrived. He’d be in nearly constant danger, live in fear, and walking the line between insanity and imagination, but he knew it would be okay. He’d trust Oikawa with it all. There was no price to steep, Iwaizumi supposed, to keep Oikawa by his side. If years of Iwaizumi’s life bought a minute with Oikawa, he’d spend them till he was flat broke, and he’d do it in the next life, and the next. Iwaizumi sighed.

“I’ll stay.” Iwaizumi breathed, hardly believing the words had come out of his mouth. Oikawa sat straight up.

“Are you serious? Do not play with me right now, Iwa-chan.” The words sounded threatening, but Iwaizumi could see the hope that was plastered all over Oikawa’s face. Iwaizumi raised a hand to cup Oikawa’s cheek, a gesture that was becoming more dangerous every time he did it.

“I’m serious, Oikawa. I want to stay.” Iwaizumi repeated, and Oikawa’s eyes lined themselves with quicksilver. Oikawa just shook his head a little.

“No, no, you can’t be serious.” Oikawa rambled, brushing away a stray tear as it ran down his face.

“Oikawa.” Iwaizumi said, allowing his tone to harden, “I am serious about staying. For all your posturing, is it really that hard to believe that I wouldn’t want to leave you either?” Iwaizumi chided, and Oikawa smiled a little.

“You’ll stay, you mean it?” Oikawa asked again, and Iwaizumi swatted at his cheek.

“God almighty, Shittykawa, how many times are you gonna make me repeat myself?” Iwaizumi asked, only half joking, but Oikawa’s face spread into a smile, and Iwaizumi was rendered damn near speechless. It was the same smile that had shone brighter than the stars that night, the same smile that Iwaizumi was entirely smitten by and completely powerless to do anything about. The problem lay in the fact that Iwaizumi would like to keep that smile on Oikawa’s face for eternity, in spite of all the wicked things he could probably persuade Iwaizumi to do with it.

“I mean, I am perfect, after all. How could anyone want to leave me?” Oikawa chirped, and Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

“I changed my mind. Take me back to Ushijima.” Iwaizumi lamented, and Oikawa screwed up his face in response.

“That is so _rude_ , Iwa-chan. I can’t believe you’d even joke about picking that barbarian Ushijima over me!” Oikawa pouted, and Iwaizumi laughed at the sight.

“I absolutely wasn’t joking.” Iwaizumi replied, and Oikawa gave that famous affronted face that Iwaizumi found himself liking a little too much. Iwaizumi ruined it with the chuckle that broke past his lips, and Oikawa smiled again. Iwaizumi was convinced that smile was laced with something, the way it made him feel weightless and heavy all at once. Oikawa stared at Iwaizumi for a moment, transfixed by something that Iwaizumi couldn’t pin down. Iwaizumi watched the way Oikawa shifted his weight forward, moving without thought until they were a little too close. Iwaizumi held his breath, stamping out the hope in his chest. He knew what was going to come next. Oikawa was bound by some dogma that Iwaizumi had yet to uncover, but he had made this much painfully clear: Until Oikawa explained the ins and outs of his sordid past or whatever, Iwaizumi was not going to get much better than this.

“We’ll have to get Kyoutani up here.” Oikawa muttered to himself, gaze growing pensive.

“What the hell would we need Kyoutani for?” Iwaizumi asked, wanting to smack himself for getting hopeful in spite of what he knew would happen.

“He’s the tattoo artist,” Oikawa explained. Iwaizumi tensed up. “Don’t worry, he does excellent work. You should see the piece he did on Yahaba’s back, damn near makes me jealous.” Oikawa said.

“Your back doesn’t look too bad, if he did those, I suppose I can trust him.” Iwaizumi decided, and Oikawa hummed in response, tracing little patterns on Iwaizumi’s forearm.

“I’m going to have a Skyflower tattooed on my back now, you know.” Oikawa whispered, though Iwaizumi got the impression that he was not supposed to hear it.

“I guess you will.” In that moment, Iwaizumi did not know what horny ass spirit had possessed him, but judging by how things were going, it was a powerful one. Iwaizumi caught Oikawa by the collar, pulling him in close. Iwaizumi licking his lips a single time before speaking.

“I can’t wait to see it on you.” Iwaizumi had not heard that tone of voice come from his mouth in a long ass time, and based on the way Oikawa erupted into a lovely carnation red, he hadn’t lost his touch. Oikawa covered his face quickly, but the damage had been done. Oikawa, ever the resourceful bastard, seized his opportunity.

He dropped in close to Iwaizumi’s ear, close enough that his lips grazed the very top. Iwaizumi shivered.

“Going to put your hands on me again, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, placing a little hum at the end of the word. In that moment, Iwaizumi knew he’d taken on an opponent too strong, and Iwaizumi was out of practice to boot.

“If only you’d let me.” Iwaizumi replied, fully aware that his voice lacked the same punch as before. The statement was also quite loaded, hitting closer to home that Iwaizumi would have liked. It crossed a line of sorts. Addressed the elephant in the room. Iwaizumi didn’t know what to think about it, he never had been much of a patient person. Instead, he waited for Oikawa’s response. Oikawa seemed to realize the question hidden in the words and drew in a deep breath.

“Ah, I owe you something, don’t I?” Oikawa began. Iwaizumi swallowed hard, watching as Oikawa’s expression darkened. “I don’t want to tell you, if I’m being honest, but I owe it to you.” Oikawa said.

“Oikawa, you really don’t have to.” Iwaizumi soothed, wishing that expression would go straight to hell and leave Oikawa alone.

“I have to tell you. You deserve to know everything. I should have told you before asking you to stay, and if this changes your mind, I won’t blame you.” Oikawa said, looking to Iwaizumi for confirmation. Iwaizumi shook his head.

“It won’t.” Oikawa just stared at the floor.

“I think it’s time I told you about Lily of the Valley.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out tomorrow or Monday, and I. cannot. wait.


	9. Nine: Say it, or don't say it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Iwaizumi listens and Oikawa sucks so bad at metaphors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY GUYS, I'm so excited I could get this up today (technically, I know it's late), and here is to all of us who are reading fan fiction instead of having anything to do today. What a crowd we are, and I could not love you all more. So, as always, thank you so much for reading, you guys are exceptional, and I would LOVE to have any of you as my Valentine. Please enjoy the chapter, I really liked writing this one hehe

Iwaizumi turned his undivided attention on Oikawa, watching as he took three deep breaths, teeth tearing into his lips before he started.

* * *

Oikawa remembered everything, and though he was nearly certain he could not bear to tell the story from beginning to end, he knew he owed it to Iwaizumi, he owed it to himself, and he knew he owed it to Lily of the Valley. Half a decade had done so little to dull the ache of loss. To tell the truth, it still kept Oikawa up at night. It was a darkness that was unending, an abyss that was too deep to climb out of, and a guilt too thick to see through. Most of the time, Oikawa found himself drowning in it. Choking on every unsaid word and burning with every lingering touch. Honestly, he’d wondered if he was destined to live a life so absent of light that he’d never see again.

But then there was Iwaizumi. There was a soul willing to accept Oikawa as he was. See, Iwaizumi had never known him as he had been, there was no need to see him as a shadow of the person he once was. It was the first time Oikawa had felt truly seen in five years. Meeting Suna was everything he had never wanted it to be. He should have known the moment they met that they were destined to burn too bright to last. Those eyes that had stayed with him for hours after they had met his own. A smile that was almost there, confidence that followed him. He commanded the crowd whether he realized it or not, and Oikawa was infatuated.

He’d followed Suna that night, out to the alleyway. Suna was aware of his shadow, and he’d turned to face Oikawa.

“Nightshade.” Suna had said, and Oikawa was gone. Hook. Line. Sinker.

He wanted to blame it on being green, but honestly it was a mistake to make Suna second in command so soon. It was a bigger mistake to weasel his way closer. Where Suna went, Oikawa followed.

They’d walked through the garden. Snow had fallen the night before, and Suna’s nose was buried in the neck of his jacket. His cheeks were pink where the cold had pressed to closely to that fair skin. Oikawa thought he looked beautiful.

“Rintarou, I love you.” Oikawa whispered against Suna’s hair, the top of his head a beacon of warmth against the cold. Suna laughed.

“I know you do, Nightshade. The question remains, what are you going to do about it?” Suna replied, tipping his head up to press a quick kiss to Oikawa’s lips. The words had stuck with Oikawa for years. Suna had always known more than Oikawa would have liked him to. Such was life, Oikawa supposed.

The New Year came and went, marking two months since they’d met in that ballroom. Suna had started staying in Oikawa’s room, spending nights murmuring the loveliest things against his back, tracing the scars, the stretchmarks, the soul. Suna had given him the idea. He’d had the Nightshade tattooed on his back for years, a gaudy impulse he’d acted on when he was nineteen. He expected Suna to ridicule him for it. Suna pressed a kiss to every leaf, and endless dance of teeth and tongue, Oikawa was lost in it.

“It looks lonely.” Suna spoke into his skin, and Oikawa shivered.

“What do you think I should do about that?” Oikawa laughed in reply.

“Put a Lily of the Valley there, too. So that I’m always with you.” Suna had said. Oikawa wished the conversation had never happened. He wished it had just been him and his vain plant, all alone. The tattoo on his back had, in fact, ensured that Suna would always be with him, but now it felt more like a shackle than a security blanket. At the time, Oikawa had agreed quickly, and then the idea of tattooing everyone on his back fell together. He was grateful for that. He didn’t know what he would do if Suna’s face had been the only one next to his own. Instead of reminding him of a person, the masterpiece on his back now simply reminded him of a time.

Suna had held his hand while he lay still for hours, feeding him things here and there, listening to him talk about how it didn’t hurt, even as Kyoutani dabbed the blood off his skin. The truth was it hurt pretty bad, but it hurt a lot worse now.

That spring, they’d gone to Amsterdam for business. It was Oikawa, Suna, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa. They’d gotten along famously, and seeing as they were much less likely to get recognized in Amsterdam than Tokyo, they’d spent the night out on the town. Oikawa had taken the time to match his outfit to Suna’s. He wanted a way to claim him, in every way. Clothes were just the starting point. Hanamaki and Matsukawa had left early, spouting some bullshit about being tired, but Oikawa had just waved them off. He stared at Suna’s face, unabashedly. The way the light reflected off the planes of his face reminded Oikawa of a symphony. There were so many things he wanted to do with Suna, so many different places to see, people to meet.

“What are you staring at, Nightshade?” Suna had asked.

“I think you’re beautiful.” Oikawa murmured, lacing his fingers through Suna’s. Suna gave one of his rare smiles.

“That makes me sad.” Suna replied plainly. Oikawa had asked what that meant, but he never received a reply.

“I love you.” Oikawa offered into the space between them, hoping that Suna would accept it one more time.

“I love you too, Nightshade.” They left Amsterdam the next day, and Suna had driven across the country the one after that. Oikawa never did find out where he went.

Summer was hot that year, and Suna refused to go outside for pretty much any reason. Oikawa found it cute at first, but eventually it interfered with their job. Oikawa’s sense of duty was heavy on his shoulders. He’d taken over for his father a little over a year ago, and he had not been shy about letting Oikawa know his opinion about the kind of job he’d been doing. He’d been asking Suna to go out on a job with them when Suna exploded. Oikawa had never seen Suna so angry.

“Is that the only thing you want me for?” Suna demanded. All Oikawa could do was shake his head. Fear clogged every inch of his lungs.

“I-I’m sorry, Rin. It’s just the job.” Oikawa offered, rushing forward to take Suna’s face in his hands.

“ _Everything_ is the damn job, Nightshade!” Suna seethed, pulling his face from Oikawa’s hands. Oikawa recoiled like he’d been burned. Suna continued his onslaught, “Do you know how much it hurts that I don’t even know your _name_. God, Nightshade, you can call me Rintarou and Rin and Suna and all these things, but I don’t get to? Tell me how that’s fair!” Suna spat. Oikawa felt the tears on his cheeks before he knew he was crying.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you! I would if I could, I promise. There is no one else on this earth I would rather tell than you!” Oikawa pleaded, taking a step forward in spite of the dread that filled the movement.

“Then _tell_ me. It’s hard to believe that you trust me when you won’t tell me _anything_. God, you won’t even tell your dad we’re together. It’s been seven months, Nightshade.” Suna ranted, and Oikawa flinched at every word.

“Rin, I—telling him wouldn’t benefit either of us.” Oikawa said slowly. He knew his father would more than likely beat both of them to all hell if he knew.

“Do you want me, or do you not?” Suna asked plainly.

“Of course, I do, Rin. Of _course_ , I do.” Oikawa sobbed, and the sight seemed to affect Suna in a strange way. Suna brought him into his arms, stroking wide circles against his back.

“Then you need to act like it. I’ve got a hell of a lot to lose, Nightshade, but even so, I’m not willing to add you to that list.” Suna whispered.

“I love you.” Oikawa whispered back, voice breaking on the words.

“I love you, too.” Suna replied, and, just for a second, Oikawa relaxed into the words.

Oikawa told his father two weeks later. When he returned with two black eyes, a broken arm, and a healthy dose of Oleander root in his system, it was all Hanamaki could do to keep him alive. Suna had stayed by his side the entire time, sad eyes trained on Oikawa. Suna didn’t apologize, but he did take good care of him. He sang to him at night, and brough him breakfast in the morning. The wounds healed, and it seemed like they had too.

They went to the ballet in October. It had been a bad night for the two of them, honestly. They had fought over what to wear, where to eat, who to bring, so the fact that they made it to the auditorium was miraculous in and of itself. They had sat next to each other, but not once had Suna looked at Oikawa, not once had Oikawa looked at Suna. The drive home was silent at first, but Suna broke first.

“What happened to us, Nightshade?” Suna asked. Oikawa’s foot hit the break. _No, no, no, he’s got it all wrong. There’s nothing wrong._ Oikawa thought fervently.

“What do you mean, my love?” Oikawa asked.

“I don’t think I’m enough for you.” Suna said softly, placing a hand on Oikawa’s thigh “I can’t compare to your work, I’ll never draw your attention from that, will I?” Oikawa’s world stopped turning. The sun would rise in the morning, and Oikawa loved Suna. You couldn’t stop it. You could not mop the ocean, you could not push over a mountain, you could not get Oikawa to stop loving Suna.

“I love you.” Oikawa said, hoping the same band-aid would cover the wound once again. Suna just closed his eyes and laid back against the head rest.

“I know you do. God knows I love you too. Maybe it isn’t enough.” Suna mused, looking out the window.

“Suna, I could not possibly love you more than I do. You’re my everything, you always will be.” Oikawa pleaded; the goddamn tears coming again.

“I know. You can’t love me any more than you do, that's just the thing.” Suna said, defeated. Oikawa’s vision blackened at the edges. He couldn’t love Suna any more, it wasn’t possible. And it wasn’t enough.

They’d stayed together for two weeks after that. Suna left him on a rainy night, crawling across Oikawa’s sheets and dropping a single kiss to his forehead.

“For what it’s worth, I loved loving you, Nightshade.” Suna had said as he closed the door. Oikawa had spent the rest of the month in bed. Talking only when it was absolutely necessary. He found it wasn’t that necessary, after all.

November came, and Aoba Johsai had scheduled a negotiation with Nohebi. It went bad pretty quick. Oikawa remembered the way Daishou had pulled the trigger, looking Oikawa dead in the eyes as he did it. Oikawa remembered the way his life had played out before him, shots of Suna stretched out in his bed, sunlight igniting his body. Cooking in December. The night he’d told Suna just how much he loved him. He waited for an impact that never came. Another bullet was fired, lodging itself in Oikawa’s knee. Oikawa blinked. Two shots. One bullet in his leg. His gaze fell.

Suna was on the ground. Oikawa dropped to his knees.

“Rintarou, please.” Oikawa sobbed. Suna smiled that rare smile.

“For what it’s worth,” Suna started, blood leaking for the corner of his mouth, “I have loved loving you.”

Suna left him for real in November.

He’d checked the account statements in December. He did not have to wonder who had paid off Nohebi. Some things were obvious.

There were entire years that Oikawa had spent cloaked in darkness. Five to be exact. Then, Hanamaki and Matsukawa dragged Iwaizumi into his life, kicking and screaming every bit of the way. He’d learned to play chess, taken care of plants, kept Oikawa’s secrets. It was strange, how one’s eyes need some time to adjust to the light. It’s blinding at first, and painful, but after a time you realize just how much you can see now. The view that you’ve missed. And sometimes it has spikey hair, and sometimes it sucks as chess. Sometimes it’s Skyflower, and sometimes it’s a second chance.

* * *

Iwaizumi didn’t know if he was going to cry or not, but the longer he looked at Oikawa, the possibility of tears flowing seemed more and more imminent. Oikawa had finished speaking nearly two full minutes ago, and his red rimmed eyes were still trained on Iwaizumi, scanning him for any sign that he was going to high-tail it out of there any second now.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi began, and he watched Oikawa flinch, “Are you feeling okay?” Iwaizumi asked, noting the way his shoulders were reaching for his ears and his chin rested on his chest, a pitiful sight, to be honest. Oikawa’s eyebrows shot up at the question, and tears threatened at his eyes again. Iwaizumi wanted to scream. The whole thing was unfair. Silly, pompous, gorgeous Oikawa had been through so much, and Iwaizumi wanted to comfort him any way he could. Oikawa shook his head slightly, and Iwaizumi scooted over in his bed, patting the spot next to him.

Oikawa hesitated, but climbed in next to him. Iwaizumi wrapped an arm around his back, and Oikawa buried his face in Iwaizumi’s chest.

“Let’s just take a minute, then.” Iwaizumi spoke softly, moving his other arm to rest in Oikawa’s hair.

“It’s been a while since I’ve talked about him. That’s why I’m like this.” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi could hear the loathing in the words.

“It’s perfectly fine to feel this way, Oikawa. It’d be weirder if you didn’t feel this way, to be honest.” Iwaizumi said, unsure if that was helpful or if it wasn’t. Oikawa took a long breath and pressed closer to Iwaizumi.

“I loved him for six years. He wasn’t even—” Oikawa’s sob cut him off, but he continued “He wasn’t even _alive_ for five of them, but I loved him still.” Iwaizumi stroked patters on Oikawa’s scalp.

“It can’t be helped. Love never can be.” Iwaizumi replied, taken aback by his own words. Oikawa cried for a while longer, curled up in Iwaizumi’s chest. Iwaizumi didn’t speak. There were things that didn’t need to be talked about.

“I don’t love him anymore, Iwa-chan. And I feel so _guilty_.” Oikawa choked out, and Iwaizumi held him tighter.

“I’m sure he’d want you to be happy, Oikawa, above all else, I’m sure he’d want that.” Iwaizumi offered, and Oikawa clung to the words. Suna had left him before he’d been shot, in a way, Oikawa always knew he’d been trying to free him. Allowing him to throw himself into work the way he’d always done. It had broken Oikawa, at the time, but now, it seemed like the strangest thing to shatter over. Long time comes with long lessons, Oikawa guessed.

“Thank you, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa said into Iwaizumi’s shirt. Iwaizumi smiled into Oikawa’s hair.

“I’d do it again. You’ve taken good care of me; I figure I should return the favor.” Iwaizumi soothed, watching the way Oikawa’s chest rose and fell. He wondered exactly how he had come across the lovely thing in his arms. He wondered which life decision, exactly, had set him on the path to meeting Oikawa. He wished he could thank his younger self for it, whatever it was.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Oikawa murmured, and Iwaizumi chuckled, weighing the benefits of truth and lie.

“Thinking about you, Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi ended up saying, unsure of how it would be received.

“What _about_ me?” came the simple reply.

“I was wondering what I did in order to get to meet you. If some decision along the way led me to you.” Iwaizumi mused, and Oikawa snorted.

“I’ll tell you what it was. It was Hanamaki and Matsukawa in Ivy 7.” Oikawa laughed, and Iwaizumi shoved at him.

“You are a colossal douchebag, has anyone ever told you that?” Iwaizumi asked, dumbfounded at the level ten asshole response he’d received.

“Or maybe you’re cute when you’re mad, Iwa-chan, ever think of that?” Oikawa smiled, moving a hand to Iwaizumi’s hip. Iwaizumi was made aware of the press of their bodies on one another, and he thought he might go up in flames on the spot. The heat that spread through his face didn’t have a damn thing to do with his words. Iwaizumi felt like a piece of shit, given the situation, but the behavior, as a whole, was unsurprising.

“I guess I didn’t think of that, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi breathed, careful to keep himself in check. _This is not the time._ Iwaizumi reminded himself. Oikawa walked his fingers up Iwaizumi’s side, floating them over his bruised ribs before tracing his cheekbone.

“Your loss, you really should see it sometime.” Oikawa sighed. “Do you still want to stay?” Oikawa asked, and Iwaizumi took the liberty of tugging at his hair. He expected some indignant response. He did _not_ expect Oikawa’s eyes to go wide, and his face to flush before Iwaizumi could even blink. Iwaizumi just stared at Oikawa, who looked embarrassed as hell. Iwaizumi desperately wanted to remedy the situation, and grabbed the first thought out of his head.

“You like that?” Iwaizumi whispered. Oikawa just nodded quickly. Iwaizumi let a dark laugh weave out from between his lips. Oikawa’s back arched in response, and Iwaizumi knew that he had achieved a new level of completely fucked. He was discovering that there was no threshold for these things. In theory, one could become infinitely completely fucked. Iwaizumi thought he may be heading in that direction.

“Well, I can’t possibly do it again if I intend to leave, can I?” Iwaizumi asked, careful to keep that same cool air in his voice, “And next time, it won’t be an accident.” Oikawa looked up at him, eyes shining and hooded, burning with a fire he hadn’t seen before. Iwaizumi was instantaneously worried he’d taken it too far, taken advantage of a fragile situation. Oikawa was quick on the uptake, though. In one fluid motion, Oikawa pressed his entire body up against Iwaizumi’s, pressing the bridges of their noses together, lips so close that Iwaizumi knew exactly how they’d feel against his own. Iwaizumi’s body was positively vibrating with tension, every muscle drawing tight and releasing in a fraction of a second.

“Hm, seems like you like that, Iwa-chan, and I can assure you, it won’t be an accident next time either.” Oikawa replied before tucking his face back into Iwaizumi’s shoulder.

Iwaizumi’s eyes drooped as the fire burned itself out in his veins. The pair fell asleep pressed against each other. It was the best Iwaizumi had slept in a while.

They woke the way they had fallen asleep, Oikawa blinking the sleep out of his eyes just a bit sooner than Iwaizumi. Oikawa fought the urge to drag his pointer finger down the bridge of Iwaizumi’s nose. He believed he couldn’t be faulted for the way his fingers twitched against the sheets. He could feel the phantom sensation of skin on skin, but he knew it felt only half as good as the real thing, most things did.

Iwaizumi’s chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm, and Oikawa matched his own breathing to it. Iwaizumi had taken the conversation surprisingly well, seeing as Oikawa had expected hellfire to rain down upon him the instant he finished. See, Oikawa was well aware of the troublesome curse that seemed to weave its way through his life. That mystery of being _enough_. Half the time, Oikawa didn’t even know what it meant, but he knew exactly how it felt.

It felt like bleeding out over a decade, watching as you lost the one thing you needed to complete the next task of the day, and the next, and the next. It felt like a thousand non-responses, and a thousand dropped commitments. It hurt like hell. However, even though the feeling had made itself a comfortable home in Oikawa’s chest, never once had Iwaizumi invoked its oily presence. Never had Iwaizumi been coated in the inky black, and tainted every good memory with that acid.

_Could you love me?_

The thought tore through Oikawa, leaving his hands shaking against Iwaizumi’s chest. Oikawa didn’t know if Iwaizumi could. He knew Iwaizumi would be kind, he knew he would understand. But he didn’t know if Iwaizumi would move past it. It was one thing to forgive, and entirely another to forget. Iwaizumi’s voice rumbled to life against Oikawa’s ear, and Oikawa tried not to lean into it.

“It’s creepy when you stare at me.” Iwaizumi teased; eyes still closed.

“Your eyes are closed!” Oikawa retorted, aiming a playful kick at Iwaizumi’s shins.

“Mhm, but how would you know unless you were looking?” Oikawa’s silence was palpable. Iwaizumi laughed. “Gotcha.”

“So, mean, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa huffed, poking Iwaizumi’s cheek. Iwaizumi’s arms tightened around Oikawa’s torso, gripping him like a vice. Faster than Oikawa could blink, Iwaizumi rolled onto his back, pulling Oikawa on top of him. Oikawa knew his face was positively flaming.

“Hm, and if I had to guess, you’re probably all kinds of blushing right now.” Iwaizumi concluded, and Oikawa did not deign to respond, puzzled by whatever strange sorcery Iwaizumi had going on. “Am I right?” Iwaizumi asked, opening an eye, and the smirk that crossed his face was answer enough.

Oikawa wriggled in his grasp, to no avail. Iwaizumi just tightened the hold. Iwaizumi tipped his head back to get a better view of Oikawa, a little smile settling on his lips. Oikawa wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He was pretty sure Iwaizumi would kiss him back, but then what? Oikawa was a walking talking hazard, and, at the end of the day, it’s unfair to ask that of anyone else, least of all Iwaizumi who had practically torn himself apart trying to keep Oikawa together. Oikawa cleared his throat.

“Hypothetically speaking,” Oikawa started.

“Oh god.” Iwaizumi responded, preparing himself for whatever incredible crap Oikawa was about to lay on him.

“And strictly as a _hypothetical_ , you know, a situation that is definitely not real—”

“I know what hypothetical means, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi snarked, flicking Oikawa’s ribs.

“That’s such good news! Why didn’t you tell me you learned five-syllable words, Iwa-chan? It’s a big accomplishment—”

Iwaizumi had The Idea.

Without any warning he jabbed Oikawa in the side, and Oikawa recoiled, laughing. Iwaizumi was the cat that got the cream. Mercilessly, he descended upon Oikawa, ignoring the pleas to stop staggered between gasps and giggles.

“I—take it—back!” Oikawa gulped, “Iwa-chan is—very smart!” Iwaizumi, satisfied with that, relented and Oikawa recovered, pushing himself to sit over Iwaizumi’s hips. Oikawa, it seemed, had not taken any account of the compromising position, but it was all Iwaizumi could think about.

_Breathe. Think of Ushijima as a naked old man. Dead grandmas. Blue cheese on mangoes._

“Iwa-chan are you _listening_?” Oikawa whined, and Iwaizumi pretended that the tone of voice hadn’t just set a fire somewhere beneath his stomach.

“Start over, from the beginning.” Iwaizumi said plaintively. He figured it was the best way to keep the whole situation from becoming a _situation_.

“Okay, hypothetically speaking, as a hypothetical. Say you had these two friends, okay? And one of them really wanted to…” Oikawa’s eyes searched the room “…play chess with the other one.”

“Is this going somewhere?” Iwaizumi asked, feigning as much boredom as he could. Truth is, Iwaizumi would probably listen to Oikawa read an encyclopedia and hang off every letter.

“Patience, Iwa-chan! So, the thing is, playing chess would be…dangerous…but the other one doesn’t know it. Because the if they lose the game…the chess pieces explode…because they are also bombs.” Iwaizumi clapped a hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle the laugh that rushed from his throat.

“Are you _laughing_? This is serious…ly hypothetical!”

Iwaizumi calmed himself before coming up with a response.

“Alright, Shittykawa, hypothetically speaking, of course, I guess it would depend.” Iwaizumi answered, satisfied with the vague nature. Oikawa pressed his lips into a line and narrowed his eyes.

“It would depend on what?” Oikawa pressed, tugging at his earlobe.

“How good the other person is at chess.” Iwaizumi answered. Oikawa’s lips parted at the response, presence retreating into his head the way it often did. Iwaizumi knew that in these moments he could probably say anything and Oikawa wouldn’t hear a damn thing. Oikawa returned to him after a moment, another question at the ready.

“But what if they lost?” Oikawa asked, eyes swimming with something that Iwaizumi could only describe as hope and defeat all at once.

“It sounds like they’d both get hurt, doesn’t it?” Iwaizumi replied, sure that this was a long and convoluted metaphor, but unsure what the metaphor was about. Oikawa leaned his head back, stretching his arms back to support him. In the end, Oikawa stayed like that for a moment before hopping off the bed and reaching into his pocket, pressing another button on his pager followed by a few numbers.

“Whatcha doing there, Oikawa?” Iwaizumi asked, brows quirked.

“Getting Kyoutani up here. If you’re going to accompany us when we move out in a few weeks we have a lot of ground to cover. No time to waste Iwa-chan!” Oikawa seemed to be back to his little chirping self, and Iwaizumi was honestly glad to see it. What he was not glad to see was Kyoutani accompanied by Yahaba and the most jank looking tattoo gun he’d ever seen. Yahaba was the first to speak.

“What in god’s name did you need _me_ for?” Yahaba asked, garnishing the whole thing off with a roll of his eyes.

“Ah, Iwaizumi here is a bit nervous about getting tattooed.” Yahaba opened his mouth to ask, but Oikawa just held up a finger. “So, I thought it would help to show him yours.”

Yahaba seemed to relax a bit at that, smiling at Kyoutani as he turned his back to Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi watched as Yahaba lifted his shirt to reveal an absolute masterpiece. His entire back was covered with a dragon, mouth open and wings flared. Iwaizumi couldn’t help the way his jaw dropped. Every line was perfect, and the piece was magnificent. Kyoutani just sent an inquisitive gaze at Iwaizumi, who nodded dumbly in response. Yahaba lowered his shirt, and Iwaizumi was almost sad.

In spite of the fact that Yahaba had seemed so eager to leave just moments before, he merely took a seat next to Kyoutani who was setting his things up at the table.

“If you feel like you’re going to faint, you need to tell me.” Kyoutani grunted, and Iwaizumi nodded. Oikawa sidled up next to Iwaizumi in an instant.

“You won’t faint, will you, Iwa-chan? I’d make sure you never lived it down.” Iwaizumi flicked Oikawa’s nose and he recoiled in offense, muttering something about how Iwaizumi was so cruel under his breath.

The whole thing splashed over Iwaizumi like cold water. It was really happening. He played with his hands in his lap. Oikawa’s eyes were on him in an instant.

“Iwa-chan, my stitches are feeling awfully dirty. I think you should clean them before we get started.” Oikawa said, and Iwaizumi could have laughed at how dumb he sounded in that instant, but to be honest, he was grateful. He followed Oikawa out into the hallway and into his room, leaning his back against the door, savoring the cool feeling against his back.

“It’s too much.” Oikawa whispered. “Isn’t it?” Oikawa paced the length of the room, and Iwaizumi didn’t like it one bit.

“Stop pacing, you’re making me nervous.” Oikawa stopped dead in his tracks, opting to walk over to Iwaizumi.

“Iwa-chan, you don’t have to do this. I mean that, no one will judge you if you want to go.” Iwaizumi knew Oikawa was telling the truth, but there was an edge of hurt to the words, and the unspoken ones. _I won’t judge you if you leave, but it’ll hurt._ Iwaizumi wondered how Oikawa had made it this far with a brain the size of a common flea. However much it would hurt Oikawa, Iwaizumi knew it would hurt him twice as much.

“I want to do this, Oikawa. I’ve told you like four hundred times. It is a lot, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not too much. You could never be—” Iwaizumi caught himself, but not fast enough. Oikawa’s eyes were already wide, and Iwaizumi’s stomach sank. Of all the things that could be considered too much, _that_ probably ranked pretty high on the list. Oikawa took a step forward.

“Say it, or don’t say it, but don’t stop halfway. It’s not nice.” Oikawa took another step forward. Another. Iwaizumi cleared his throat, abandoning his hope that he had acquired the ability to phase through doors. In a world of to say or not to say, Iwaizumi knew where he fit.

“You could never be too much.” Iwaizumi said.

_You could never be too much._

The words fluttered through Oikawa’s ribcage. Foreign, but not unwelcome. He wanted to laugh. Not once, in his entire life, had Oikawa concerned himself with the possibility that he could even be too much. It simply didn’t fit into the equation of the too little and the not enough.

Oikawa wondered if it was some sort of divine intervention. Either that or Hanamaki and Matsukawa were terrible at their job in the best possible way. Iwaizumi didn’t erase five years of pain, he didn’t erase a lifetime of not being enough for anyone, but rather, he marked a lifetime of feeling like he could be. He wondered if the timing was a little too perfect, if Iwaizumi was a little too perfect. Frankly, Oikawa did feel like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, like there was some great oversight that had yet to be touched on.

Though a part of him would love Rintarou until his bones ground themselves into dust, that part of him had likely died that November. It wasn’t gone entirely, it had torn a hole in Oikawa when it left, but Oikawa believed that it was with Rintarou now. A part of him, but not a part of Oikawa. The hole had been all ragged edges and heartbreak, as it only natural when half of you takes to the sky, but _slowly_ it had been filled. It had been filled with Hanamaki’s smile and Matsukawa’s jokes. It had been filled by watching Kuroo and Kenma find a home within each other. It had been filled by the sound of Bokuto’s voice, and Akaashi’s cool touch. It had been filled with Kyoutani’s bark and Yahaba’s bite, and now it was filled with Iwaizumi. Whether Iwaizumi had intended for it or not, he’d become to dam to hold back the river, stitching up every last scratch on Oikawa, and watching over him while he healed. Perhaps, Oikawa thought, it was time for things to go right.

Oikawa took a step forward.

“Say it, or don’t say it, but don’t say things you don’t mean.” Oikawa wished there had been more bite in the words, but they just hung there, limp, between them.

“I mean it though. You’re a lot of things, but you’ll never be too much, Oikawa.” If Iwaizumi had had any sort of penchant for being a liar, Oikawa would have known. He knew what lies looked like. He knew what they sounded like. They didn’t sound like that. Oikawa took the last step forward.

“Say it, or don’t say it, but don’t do nothing about it.” Oikawa flicked his gaze to Iwaizumi’s eyes. There was so _much_ to look at. Whoever had prattled off the bit about eyes being the window to the soul was a smart bastard, or so Oikawa thought. There was barely a gap between them now, but Oikawa didn’t feel close enough, he wondered if he ever would. Iwaizumi cracked a smile.

“It depends.” He spoke. _Cheeky bastard_. Oikawa lamented to himself, but played along nonetheless. He didn’t understand the smug look in Iwaizumi’s eyes, like he’d figured something out. How could Iwaizumi have figured it out if Oikawa didn’t have a blue’s clue what was going on between them.

“On what?” Oikawa replied, and Iwaizumi leaned forward. Oikawa’s heart ratcheted in his chest, a little fire to keep him warm settling in his lungs. _Hope._ Iwaizumi was a centimeter away, tipping his head up, catching Oikawa’s nose with his own, throwing Oikawa’s head back just a fraction.

“How good are you at chess?” Iwaizumi said, voice cool and even. Oikawa sucked in a little gasp.

It was unfair, really, that Oikawa had no idea how he looked in that moment. Iwaizumi was positively mesmerized. The flushed cheeks, the parted lips, the eyes that burned and burned and burned. Oikawa inhaled again, a little thing that Iwaizumi could nearly feel on his lips. Iwaizumi wanted to close the distance desperately, but he was in too deep to give up that easily. Oikawa was going to work for it.

“I feel like you’ve lost to me enough to know.” Oikawa smirked, and Iwaizumi let out a dark little laugh, “but I’m not feeling particularly talented at the moment.” He finished, and Iwaizumi felt his lips curl at the response.

“Good.” Iwaizumi replied. Iwaizumi wasted no time in fisting a hand in Oikawa’s hair, closing that dreadful gap at last.

It was the kind of thing you dreamed about, but not the kind of thing you ever believed could happen to _you_. It was the first snow and the first spring, the sun that thawed and the ice that froze. It was the kind of thing that stole your breath, but filled your lungs. The sea and the assaulted shore. It wasn’t fireworks, or a symphony, or a sunset. It was better. The kind of thing that poured a blanket of gold over the cliff’s edge and into the abyss. It leaves you wondering how you could have made it a second living without it, let alone a lifetime. It was Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

Iwaizumi expected Oikawa’s lips to be soft, but he hadn’t expected them to be so pliant, bending to Iwaizumi’s will and obeying every silent command. It was a slick and svelte motion that had Oikawa making little sounds that made it hard for Iwaizumi to believe he was still breathing. Iwaizumi flicked his tongue against Oikawa’s bottom lip, and nearly collapsed at the sheer willingness that greeted him. Iwaizumi wondered if he had ever really been kissed before. If this was how it was supposed to feel, nothing had ever come close.

Iwaizumi was the first to break it off, unwilling to look at anything but Oikawa, not even the backs of his own eyelids. Oikawa hummed, pressing his nose into Iwaizumi’s neck.

“Kyoutani’s waiting for us, Shittykawa.” Iwaizumi said, suddenly upset about the tattoo for an entirely different reason.

“You do know I’m like, in charge, right? They won’t go anywhere.” Oikawa suggested, and Iwaizumi huffed a laugh into Oikawa’s hair.

“The sooner it’s done…” Iwaizumi trailed off, letting Oikawa finish the sentence for himself. Oikawa shot straight up.

“You have a point.”

They were back at the table in record time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nightshade, the fanfic where it takes 40k words to get a kiss. I wasn't lying about the slow part of the slow burn folks.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo did you like it?


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